


Be A Hero

by JuliusCaesarBitches



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, not too heavy of smut (I think)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:04:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliusCaesarBitches/pseuds/JuliusCaesarBitches
Summary: After a car ride with a guy he supposedly hated, Alfred quickly learns there's much more than what meets the eye. As he gets closer to his long time enemy, he discovers that he may be the only one who can heal him from his broken past.(*I suck ass at summaries Imma sowwy*)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a fic so I'd thought I'd do something relatively easy. Also, I wrote the majority of this on a phone, so please bare through any mistakes and comment the ones you find so I can fix them. Another note: I will try to post regularly. I can get pretty busy with my own personal life but I will hopefully be able to post full chapter every second week. If that is not the case, I will write a heads up in the notes, so watch out for that! Thanks, darlings! Enjoy! <3

Why do I do this every day? Alfred thought. He slumped back into his chair, hitting his knees on the metal bottom of his ancient desk.

There were many people who could sit at a desk all day, learn all day, and survive until the end of the day. Alfred was not one of them. He had to basically crawl out of the front doors by the time the bell rang. 

He let his eyes wander around the classroom, glazed and dazed. The posters covering the biology walls were too colourful, distracting the eye from the information. The white-painted brick walls were old and slightly chipped around the corners. Diagrams and models were everywhere, surrounding Alfred and the other students with their exposed tendons and bones and muscles.

While there were many things to look at in the room, he, of course, opted to look out the window. 

The Phys. Ed. class was outside, playing flag rugby. Alfred would have rathered to be out there than being stuck in an enclosed space. Like a classroom.

The class was too far from the biology room to watch the game, but he could still spot one person. Ivan Braginsky.

He and Ivan had gone to school together for years, so they went way back. They’d been together through the crazy kid years, the awkward preteen years, and now, the shitty teenage years. It would make perfect sense to be friends considering how long they’d known each other, but in reality, Alfred couldn’t be around him for more than a few minutes without going absolutely insane. Why? Alfred had no clue, but there was something about the other boy that made him either want to strangle him or… yeah, just strangle him.

Alfred watched as Ivan caught the ball and started to run with it. The guy was a giant, and though his usual jeans and baggy shirts made it look like he wasn’t fit, his rugby uniform didn’t. Ivan’s thick thighs were on show thanks to the black shorts with crimson stripes. His strong calves were flexed as he ran. The guy was a tank, his huge chest and impressive guns made him look years older. The only thing childish about him was his face--Alfred had looked at it enough times to know every detail of it. The cold, lilac eyes that shone with a constant mischief. The full set of brows that couldn’t be natural. The condescending smile he always wore when he was around Alfred. He had a rounder face, or so it seemed--his long, off white scarf always covered from his lips down. 

He always wore it. Even now, during a Phys. Ed. class, the scarf was billowing behind him as he ran. He looked like a bull; a very tall, very strong bull. A childish bull. A bullshi--

‘‘--Isn’t that right, Mr. Jones?’’

The voice broke Alfred from his trance, and his head snapped toward his teacher who was standing right in front of him. ‘‘Umm, what?’’

His teacher, Ms. Laea, looked down at him. She wasn’t tall, but she wasn’t short. Ms. Laea was a bigger woman, with short brown hair and an easy smile that showed all her teeth. Today she had a light brown and white flowy skirt with a white blouse tucked into it. As she looked, a joking glint shone in her eyes. Alfred had obviously missed her question--nearly her entire lesson--and she knew it.

‘‘I said, ‘the most important human system is the nervous system’. Do you agree?’’

Alfred blinked. ‘‘Oh yeah, of course!’’ He grinned.

She smiled almost slyly. One thing you learned quickly about Ms. Laea was that she was very laid back, so much so that she was almost like another student. Just a bit more grown up. So when she gave Alfred that look, he knew immediately that he’d screwed up. ‘‘Wrong. All the systems are equal. If one starts to fail, the entire body will be in trouble.’’

The class laughed, and so did Alfred. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘‘Yeah, that makes more sense.’’

Ms. Laea rolled her eyes, sighing. She walked away, deciding that this was a lost battle. 

Now, Alfred was not a bad student. Yes, he procrastinated, and sometimes he was late on the studying train. He dozed off in class and got easily distracted. But he was at the lowest a B student. His marks never dipped below 85%, which was mostly due to his parents and their expectations. Also, heros were smart. He was a hero.

Moments later, the bell rang. Alfred was the first out of the room. 

LUNCH! FINALLY! Alfred silently cheered. He sped off to his locker a few halls down. Practically dumping his stuff into his locker, he snatched his lunch bag. He didn’t notice the giant standing beside his locker door.

‘‘Hello, Alfred,’’ greeted Ivan. Alfred nearly screamed. 

‘‘When--how--why?’’ he sputtered out. When did you get here? How did you get here so fast? And why are you here? That’s what he was trying to say, but the shock of not noticing him was still too great to make coherent sentences.

Ivan merely smile at him, oblivious--or at least pretending to be. His actual mouth couldn’t be seen since his off-white scarf was covering the lower half of his face. Alfred could see the corners of his eyes wrinkle ever so slightly, and his cheeks round out. It made him want to smack Ivan’s scarf right off of his face.

‘‘Why are you here?’’ he managed to bark out. Even he flinched at his own harsh tone, as did others around him, but Ivan just kept smiling. 

‘‘I was wondering if you wanted to go to the store with me.’’

This was a big thing at their school. Chances were if you drove to school, you’d be driving to the store at lunch. It was just a small gas stop, but it had coffee and cool ice cream machines and amazing milkshakes. Alfred silently admitted to himself that he really wanted a milkshake. He did bring his wallet today as well, and he’d just gotten paid yesterday…

Am I seriously debating this?! This is Ivan Briginski here! I can’t go to the store with him! In his car! But he really wanted that milkshake.

‘‘Uhh Alfred?’’ Ivan looked at him with round lilac eyes. It was like he could sense Alfred’s inner turmoil.

Alfred looked into his eyes, and when they locked, he felt chills travel over his body. A main reason as to why he couldn’t stand Ivan. Everytime they locked gazes for more than a second, Alfred got all fidgety, like he was naked or something. The thought of being naked in front of Ivan made rose rush up to his cheeks.

He didn’t know what to do. The tension was awkward as Ivan waited on an answer. 

After a few more seconds, the taller boy sighed. ‘‘It’s alright, I understand. You can’t think of how to say no without hurting my feelings.’’ His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he broke the American’s gaze. If he didn’t know better, Alfred would have thought he was genuinely upset, with his gaze turned down and what looked like slight tears in his eyes. It twisted his heart to see the other boy like this, though he didn’t know why. He felt like he made him feel like this. 

What the fuck, me?! Heroes don’t hurt people!

With that in mind, he swallowed his pride and said, ‘‘Yeah, sure. I’ll go with you.’’

Ivan immediately lifted his gaze back to Alfred, and there was an odd satisfaction in having his eyes on him again. There was hope in his eyes, and a sweet smile on his face, now visible from the scarf moving down just enough to see his pale pink, soft lips.

‘‘В самом деле?’’ Another reason why Alfred hated Ivan; when he spoke Russian, his voice went lower and a bit more gravely, and Alfred was a sucker for low raspy voices.

‘‘Let’s just go already,’’ Alfred said. He nearly slammed his locker shut, thoroughly pissed at himself. Why did he care if Ivan got sad--it wasn’t his problem! They hated each other, for Christ’s sake! As much as he tried to believe he didn’t give a damn about the Russian walking behind him as they made their way to the student parking lot, he still felt some of the guilt lingering from when Ivan nearly gave up on asking Alfred to go to the store with him.

Why did he ask him, anyway?

The two boys walked in silence, and when they reached Ivan’s car--a 1975 Chevrolet Camaro with a light purple shimmery paint and a single black strip along the entire car--they continued the silence. The enterier was nice. Real black leather and completely spotless. The car looked nearly new, but it was definitely a ‘75. You could tell by the engine when Ivan started the ignition. The few other students whipped their heads around, watching as Ivan peeled out of the parking lot. Alfred was thankful he had his seatbelt on.

It was Ivan who broke the silence after a couple minutes of driving. ‘‘What class do you have after lunch?’’

Small talk. Alfred could deal with that. ‘‘I have a free period.’’

‘‘Oh, cool,’’ Ivan responded. He added so quietly that Alfred could barely hear him, ‘‘Me too.’’

‘‘I guess we’re in no rush then, huh?’’ 

Ivan looked at Alfred, his eyes wide in surprise. His nearly white hair blew around from the opened window, his eyes sparkled. There was slight colour to his face, like a child caught doing something embarrassing. Before he veered the car off of the road, he turned his head back. ‘‘нет, I guess not.’’

It took a minute before Alfred realized they’d been driving for a while longer than they should have. Normally it took five minutes tops to get there. They’d been driving for nearly ten, and Ivan was speeding. 

That's sketch… Alfred risked a glance at Ivan, feeling suffocated all of a sudden. The hairs on his arms rose, and his breathing started to accelerate.

"Ivan, where the fuck are we going?!" He sounded so scared and angry. Not at all like a hero. 

"To the store, Alfred. Just like I said."

The lack of emotion in Ivan's voice didn't help Alfred to calm down. He tried, he really fucking tried, but it was no use. Every worst case scenario went through his head, and though he tried to stop it, he went back in time. 

The speeding car… the locked doors… the blaring radio… his small body wracked with fear…

"Alfred… Alfred… Alfred!!"

He snapped back into focus, now realizing the car was stopped. Pulled over on the side of the road, the car ignition off. Ivan was twisted in his seat, blatantly staring at Alfred, worry plastered all over his ivory face. "Alfred, what's wrong?"

He then realized he had started to tear up. His hands immediately went behind his glasses to wipe his tears away, turning his face away from the Russian. He ignored Ivan's question.

"Alfred, please tell me what's wrong?" Ivan took his face in his massive hand. Though calloused, the other boy was gentle as he turned Alfred's face back to him.

He was choked up. He couldn't speak. Why was Ivan being so gentle? They weren't this close--they didn't care for each other--so why was Ivan looking at Alfred with this level of concern?

Finally finding his voice, Alfred said, "it's nothing. I'm fine."

Ivan's face went from concerned to flat out pissed in less than a second. His eyebrows knit together, and his eyes squinted. A shadow passed over his face as his lips pulled down into a frown. "Bullshit," he said, voice low. "Bull-fucking-shit! I know that wasn't nothing!" He raised his voice, moving closer to Alfred. When he saw Alfred flinch at the sudden switch, his blue eyes widen with surprise and hidden fear, he switched back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, I just…" it was obvious Ivan was choosing his words carefully. "My mom is a psychologist. She told me all about the signs of… of a person reliving trauma." Before Alfred could protest, Ivan nervously said, more like whispered, "was it my driving?" 

He looked so apologetic, and it went a wrench straight to Alfred's heart. He thinks it's his fault. "N-no! Your driving is fine--the same as mine!" He averted his gaze, picking and pulling at a loose string on the sleeve of his old aviator jacket. "I just…" he let out a big sigh; he did not want to talk about this.

Ivan picked up on the untold words Alfred was wanting to voice. "It's alright, Alfred. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to--just know I'm always here if you want to."

Alfred laughed at the professionalism in Ivan's normally childish voice. "Spoken like a true psychologist."

"Good. I want to be one when I'm older."

"Huh, really? I wouldn't picture that with the whole… rugby get up." I nearly said muscle get up FUCK!

Ivan giggled--did guys giggle? Ivan sure did. It was a light, soft noise, like if butterfly wings had a song. He put the key into the ignition and turned it. The car roared back to life, and he said, "that's just in the hopes that I get a scholarship for playing on their team."

Makes sense, Alfred thought. As Ivan resumed driving, the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Moments later Ivan broke it, asking, "What do you want to do as a profession?"

Be a hero, Alfred thought. He wouldn't dare say that aloud though. Sure, everyone knew he loved heroes, but they all thought it was the normal geeky Marvel and D.C. love. No one knew how deep it actually went, how badly he truly wanted to be a hero for those who need one. He never told anyone due to his fear that they wouldn't understand the real reason, or that they would understand too well.

"A police officer. Ya know, be a hero and all that," he replied. It was easier to explain. Less geeky, too. 

"That suits you." Aaanndd Ivan could not have complemented Alfred better than that. His heart skipped a beat, while his stomach did flips. 

He said a hero suits me! Alfred head screamed. 

"Thanks, dude!" He beamed at Ivan. You would have to be blind to not see the bright pastel blush that spread across the Russian's face. He pulled up his scarf over his mouth, muttering a barely audible "No problem."

"Mind if we turn on the radio?" Alfred asked. Ivan slowed down the car and looked behind him into the backseat. 

Turning back around he said, "my bag is back there. Front pocket there's a speaker, if you want to play music from your phone." Without saying anything, other than a quick "Thanks" because manners, kids, He reached around. The bag was pretty far back, so he had to unbuckle himself. His was was basically in the air between the seats. Knowing this, Alfred tried to be quick, unzipping the front pocket of the other boy's bag and grabbing the speaker. He barely had the sense to zip the pocket back up before twisting around and throwing himself back into his seat.

He looked at the speaker on his hand. It was a long cylinder shape, with a netted sort of groove into it. The red label was an eyesore compared the light mint base colour.

"You must really like pastel colours, huh?" He asked Ivan. Ivan quickly understood what he meant and smiled behind his scarf. 

"It's a joke between my sisters and I. My older sister loves neutral based colours. My younger sister, she likes more dark colours. I'm the pastel loving one. Shows how different the three of us are." He giggled again, and it made Alfred laugh, too. 

Alfred didn't quite know what to say, so he said nothing. Instead he hooked up his phone to the speaker. He hoped Ivan didn't mind Blink-182 And Green Day, because it was all he had downloaded.

He was surprised to glance over and see the Russian slightly bobbing his head along, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel while muttering the words. He liked it. Alfred smiled for the rest of the drive to the store.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back with another chapter.  
I will admit this took me so long because I procrastinated, and I didn't want to force myself to write. It wouldn't be as good. At least, not to me, and I want to give you guys the best content I can.  
Thanks, darlings! <3

Alfred didn't remember the drive to the store being this long.  
  
It crossed his mind again after a song or two had passed. He wanted to ask Ivan where they were really going, but he didn't want to receive that monotone voice again. Surprisingly, it had really affected Alfred. It made him feel like Ivan wasn't paying attention to him--like he didn't care what the American was saying. And sure, he had only used the voice once, but it just… it cut him so much more.  
  
Everything was so much more when it came to Ivan.  
  
Another reason why Alfred hated him! Everything was amplified when Ivan came around. Everything seemed so bright and things got louder and Alfred couldn't focus because Ivan cologne was filling his sinuses and his eyes were pulling Alfred in and--  
  
That's… not hate, Alfred thought. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like how his twin, Matthew, talked about his boyfriend. The constant staring, and always wanting to have his attention. Alfred used to think the staring was glaring, and the want for his attention was just so he could piss the other boy off. He was positive Ivan hated him, but… he had been so gentle and sweet with him. It just didn't add up anymore. Fuck, Alfred was confused.  
  
The air started to get tense, though neither boy had said anything. Maybe it was just Alfred, but the air was so tense it felt brittle, like it could be snapped simply by breathing to loudly. Ivan went even further.  
  
"So how's Matthew doing?" He kept his eyes on the road, but the slight edge to his voice gave away the fact that he sensed Alfred's unease.  
  
Use something familiar and comfortable to ease a conversation. Nice tactic, Alfred thought. "He's doing good. Mostly hangs out with his boyfriend all the time."  
  
Ivan's eyebrows raised, wrinkling his forehead. "Matthew has a boyfriend?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Did you not know?" Alfred then realized he didn't even know if Ivan was homophobic. He didn't think so but… "Shit, you aren't homophobic, are you?"  
  
Ivan laughed and reached for the sleeve of his knitted sweater. "Maybe you didn't notice the bracelet I wear every day, which would be just like you." He moved his sleeve to reveal a braided rainbow bracelet. Alfred felt his eyes widen in shock. "My younger sister made it for me when I came out to my family. It was her way of saying she accepted me, no matter what." Ivan's voice sounded like warm hot chocolate, rich and smooth with affection.  
  
Alfred smiled at that. "I remember when I came out to my family as pan. I told Matty first, and obviously he didn't care. He already knew, said it was twin telepathy or something. Next was my parents, and I was really nervous. Since Matty and I were the same, we came out together. Even though I was scared for myself…" his voice trailed off, remembering the clutch fear had around his heart, and how his lungs felt like they were being crushed in.  
  
"You were ready to protect Matthew with your life."  
  
Alfred turned to look at him. "Yeah," he agreed, voice soft in wonder. Maybe we aren't so different after all.  
  
"That was my older sister to me when I told my grandparents. They're Russian Orthodox, so they're… set in their ways, to put it lightly. Her and our younger sister were ready to fight tooth and nail to make them accept me."  
  
"Did they have to?" Alfred couldn't help but ask.  
  
Ivan let out a breathy laugh. "No, but they want to. My дедушка и бабушка, my grandparents, aren't rude towards me or anything, but they purposely avoid the topic of dating when it comes to me. They ask my sisters, but not me." He shrugged, causing his scarf to reveal more of his face. "They're just uncomfortable with it. They do still treat me like their grandson though, so I'm luckier than a lot of people."  
  
Alfred agreed with him. He also spent a quick second to appreciate how nice Ivan's voice was when he spoke Russian. Damn.  
  
They lapsed into another chapter of silence, both wondering how they had gotten close enough to come out to each other like that when they had only spoken for a few minutes. A history of fighting and being closed off had all been destroyed by one car ride. It seemed impossible, but here they were.  
  
Alfred was so lost on his marvel at their sudden shift in dynamics that he didn't notice them pulled over once more. When Alfred realized, his first thought was, oh, we've been pulled over for speeding, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. It happened to him a couple of times, but they always let him off because they pitied his youth and inexperience on the road. But Ivan didn't look like a teen. He also didn't quite look like an adult, either. He was one of those weird combinations where you couldn't guess their age. He would get ticketed.  
  
But then Alfred realized they weren't pulled over. Well, not by cops at least. They were parked in some lot, and Ivan shut off the ignition again.  
  
Alfred couldn't hold it back any longer. "Where are we?!" His head whipped toward Ivan, stating the obvious, "this is not the store!"  
  
The Russian raised his brows, like a mock surprise. Why would we be at the store, his look seemed to say. It pissed Alfred off, no matter how cute Ivan looked with his wide lilac eyes and head tilted ever so slightly to the side.  
  
"No, this isn't the store. This is my house." Ivan said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it kind of was. The house wasn't immensely big, but it also wasn't small. A two story building in town, pretty cheesy. It had almost a cottage vibe to it. The light peach colour of the house, and the dark brown shutters and door.  
  
"It's very…" Alfred tried to put a word on it, to describe the feeling. "Homey." Yeah, that worked.  
  
Ivan opened his car door, not saying a word about Alfred's comment. Before Alfred clued in to get out, too (he was busy looking at the house, admiring the sweetness) Ivan opened his door it for him. Alfred blushed, muttering, "I can open my own door," as he stepped out. The warm breeze barely rustled his hair. "Won't your parents be pissed about you skipping? And bringing home a stranger?"  
  
"It was a free. They won't care. And you're not a stranger, Alfred." Their eyes locked. Chills surged through Alfred about what Ivan just said. He wasn't a stranger to Ivan's parents. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but…  
  
"This sounds like it was planned." Alfred got his answer when Ivan blushed and turned his head away, pulling up his scarf like a shield that would protect him from the world. Alfred couldn't remember a time when Ivan didn't have that scarf. He smiled at how cute (and sly) this man-child was. "It was planned, then."  
  
"I… may have told them you were coming over." Ivan looked extremely stressed out. Maybe I made it seem like I was upset, Alfred thought. Even he had to admit he had a tendency to be dramatic and play up his emotions. In all honesty, he thought it was cute that Ivan arranged a time for Alfred meet his parents.  
  
Alfred grinned, saying, "this sounds like a date." Yes, the thought made him blush quite a bit, but Ivan was a tomato. His entire face and ears were aggressively red. He pulled his scarf up even more to cover it, and Alfred wished he wouldn't. He liked seeing Ivan blush. It was cute.  
  
Alfred wanted to take his hand, or pull his scarf back down. He resisted the urge, however, and instead shut the car door after grabbing his bag. He turned to Ivan, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think he looked gorgeous in that moment. The sun hit his hair, making a halo around his head. Everything around Alfred seemingly faded when he looked into Ivan’s eyes. How had he never noticed the depth of emotion in them? The way they sparkled in the afternoon sunlight was mesmerizing. His gaze wasn’t hostile like it usually was, though there were still some walls up—walls that Alfred wanted to crumble to dust.  
  
Alfred wouldn’t mind if this was a date, though he would never admit it. Not even to himself.  
  
“Let’s do this.”  
  
Ivan smiled—a real smile, not the cocky one Alfred normally received. It took his breath away—knocked it straight out of his lungs and locked them shut “Okay,” he replied, voice softer than butterfly wings fluttering.  
  
The two walked to the door. Ivan didn’t bother to knock before opening the door. Alfred thought this was strange, until he remembered that this was his house. His house that he went home to every day. His house that he had a room in, that he spent the days of his life in. That probably shared all of his childhood memories in its walls.  
  
Suddenly, Alfred felt like an outsider—an invader that would wreck everything. He started to sweat a bit, and he felt his anxiety build.  
  
Calm down, half his brain told him. It’s not an actual date. It means nothing. You’re just kind of friends and you’re meeting his parents in a pre-organized way. It’s nothing big. Completely casual. But the other half criticized his blue jeans, the fact that he was wearing his old badge and pin covered jacket. The headphones around his neck were probably tacky, and his plain black sneakers and white t-shirt weren’t coordinated perfectly. I’m thinking like Mattie… shit!  
  
Again, Ivan used his weird people abilities to read Alfred’s concerns. He did something very, very weird. He took one cold hand and brushed along Alfred’s cheekbone up to his glasses. “You look perfect, милая.” Another sweet smile, and Alfred did his best not to melt into the other’s touch.  
  
They were officially in the house. Alfred was in the Braginsky HQ. Before the car ride, this would have been something that would wreck his entire life, but now… he felt a bit of happiness through all the anxiety he felt.  
  
The boys took off their shoes, and Ivan placed his carefully on the shoe rack. Alfred observed and copied. A weird talent of his; being able to copy nearly anything perfectly with one glance. He had a feeling it would come in handy while he was here. Everything seemed to be placed exactly. The pictures on the walls going up the stairs from the foyer were perfectly straight, there wasn’t a speck of dust on anything. The light hardwood floor shone like it had just been polished. Even the mat that they had walked on didn’t show a fragment of wear and tear. It was so… meticulous.  
  
Ivan turned and walked out of the foyer, moving deeper into this alien world that Alfred had never seen. He became Ivan’s shadow, staying close behind him. He told himself it was only because he didn’t know where he was going, but deep down he knew he was lying to himself. He liked being this close to Ivan—this new Ivan that Alfred had never met. Or maybe it was the same Ivan as all along, and Alfred just hadn’t given him a chance to show his true colours. It was very possible. Alfred, being Alfred, tended to be quick to judge with people.  
  
Ivan went through the doorway on the right into a conjoined kitchen, dining room, and living room space. Bland cream walls were in each room, they were decorated with so much beautiful art that a person would barely look at them. Some were metal pieces that looked like leaves covering the walls. Others were paintings of gorgeous sunsets and landscapes. On the dark night stands in the living room, there were pictures of, who Alfred assumes was, the Braginsky family.  
  
In each photo, the parents looked some type of cheery, the two sisters looked opposite; one dark and moody, the other with a gorgeous beaming smile she obviously got from her parents. Ivan, he either had a very faint smile, or his scarf covered his mouth completely. They were perfect in dynamic.  
  
Once Alfred realized he had strayed from Ivan a bit while looking at the photos, he felt barren. Like he had stumbled in naked. It was even worse once he registered the people looking at him. He vaguely felt Ivan’s presence at his side from being so startled. How had he not seen the people when he and Ivan walked in?!  
  
There were two of them. Adults, probably mid-40s if Alfred has to guess. The woman had long, light hair, with a soft face and regal structures. She looked like a snow queen from the distant lands of the north. She was probably a model. The man looked more stern, with a sharp jaw and cold eyes. The only thing that gave away his unapproachable demeanour was the obvious smile lines that wrinkled his eyes. His thin lips were turned up at the corners. They both looked perfect.  
  
“You must be Alfred!” The woman—Mrs. Braginsky—rose out of her chair, moving across the conjoined rooms with the grace of a flowing river. She reached the boys, wrapping her slim arms around Alfred. She smelled of apple and cinnamon. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she smiled as she pulled away. To his left, Alfred heard Ivan’s breath hitch. It was clear he didn’t want his mom to say that.  
  
Alfred smiled back. “All good things, I hope.” His cheesy grin made her laugh, and he took it as a good sign.  
  
“Oh, of course! You’re Ivan’s best friend.” She said this like it was the most casual thing ever. She turned, and Alfred took the opportunity to look at Ivan. The other boy wouldn’t return his gaze. Instead, he looked at the floor, an adorable blush starting from behind his scarf. Alfred made a mental note to grill him on this later.  
  
The man—Mr. Braginsky—walked up. He was quite tall, especially compared to the woman, who barely came up to Alfred’s chin. This man, however, rose a bit above Alfred’s head, which was a bit unsettling.  
  
“It is very nice to meet you, Alfred,” he said. He had a low, rich voice with a tad bit of rasp around the edges.  
  
“How was school, детка?” Mrs. Braginsky asked Ivan. It was cute to see them hug. He towered over her, his back hunched so he could place his face in her neck, like a child trying to hide from the darkness in the world. His massive bulk compared to her slim and curvy stature would be ridiculous looking, had they not both been the definition of beauty.  
  
Ivan let go of his mother, looking down at her with so much kindness in his eyes. The bond they shared was special. Anyone could tell.  
  
“It was okay. I was told by the football coach that he wants me to join, again.”  
  
“Aaawweee! Amazing, детка!” Mrs. Braginsky exclaimed. Pride shined bright in her ice blue eyes, making them look like a winter scene in a fairytale. His father’s grey eyes held the same amount of approval, he was just more quiet about it.  
  
Then, there were footsteps on the stairs. Two girls—young women, really—walked into the kitchen. They saw Alfred, and had very conflicting reactions.  
  
One young woman had the same hair as Mrs. Braginski, only shorter. She had cut her locks into a close bob. She had blue-grey eyes that expressed all her emotions. She had gotten the father’s height, though, coming up to Alfred’s brows. She was wearing a white blouse tucked into high waisted blue-grey jeans. She saw Alfred and smiled, a smile that would be given to an old friend after not seeing them for years.  
  
The other girl, however… she did not look happy to see Alfred. She glared at him with dark purple eyes. Her slim lips were turned down in a frown. Her pale brows were coming together, making her look even more cross at Alfred. She was shorter, but lacked her mother’s curves. Upon closer inspection, Alfred realized she was balling the skirt of her dark purple dress in her small fists.  
  
“Ah, Alfred, these are my sisters,” Ivan said, finally turning to look at him. As he said it, they both came crashing in on him. The taller sister enveloped him in a huge hug, while the younger one just quietly wrapped her arms around Ivan’s waists, still glaring at Alfred. Alfred watched in amusement; it was interesting to see someone (some people?) actually overpower the giant. Of course, they didn’t actually overpower him. He stood just fine, embracing them back.  
  
“How were your days?” He asked them. They both went into detail about their days, overtaking each other the entire time, yet Ivan managed to get both stories. He smiled. “Sounds eventful.”  
  
“Not as eventful as right now. Who’s this?” The older one asked. Ivan turned around to look, like he forgot Alfred was there.  
  
“This is Alfred,” he said, walking towards Alfred and standing by his side. “Alfred, these are my sisters Iryna,” he gestured to the taller one, ” and Natalya.” Natalya frowned even more, but she looked at how comfortable her brother was, and relaxed her brows. Only a bit though, to make him happy.  
  
“Hey,” Alfred said. He tried to sound casual, but on the inside he was all panic. This was the make or break, and he knew it. If Ivan’s sisters didn’t like him, Ivan wouldn’t like him.  
  
Ivan doesn’t like me, I’m just coming in as a… friend. Nothing more, he tried to convince himself. It was such bullshit, but he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of admitting what was happening between the boys. Even if it was just in his head. “It’s nice to finally meet you guys. Ivan’s told me about you.” There, that was a good introduction. At least, he hoped it was. Another lopsided grin, and he had Iryna smiling back fully and Natalya… she was coming around, he hoped.  
  
“Ivan,” Mr. Braginski cut in. “Why don’t you show Alfred around?”  
  
Ivan blinked. Maybe he didn’t expect to be let alone with a guy in his house. “Uhh, sure.” Ivan turned to Alfred. He gestured for him to follow, and Alfred was glad to. He didn’t want to be the centre of attention. Normally, he lived and thrived for it, but not with something so special, like someone else’s family.  
  
So, it was back to being Ivan’s shadow. They left the main floor, going downstairs. The entire basement was renovated. Half was used for gaming with a giant flat screen taking up an entire wall. The other half was a gym. No wonder why Ivan was ripped.  
  
Alfred got even more nervous when they walked to the second floor. This was where all the bedrooms were. Where Ivan’s bedroom was. He may get to go to Ivan’s bedroom! The nervousness turned into excitement, and Alfred did his to pay attention to what Ivan was saying. He followed him to the end of the hall, passing all the other bedrooms and the bathroom.  
  
Ivan stopped at the last door, then opened it. He moved so Alfred was the first one to walk in, and he was in awe. It was just so… so… Ivan. The walls were ever so slightly blue, with different flowers different (pastel, of course) colours around the window and the door. The queen size bed had a dark wooden frame, with white sheets and lilac comforters. The floor was the same wooden floorboards. Across from the bed was a desk, pushed up against the opposite wall. Everything on the desk was organized—the pens and pencils were in small glass jars, the books and papers all tucked away and sorted into the drawers. The wall opposite the door was a big window. The peach curtains were drawn back to reveal a From it, much of the neighborhood was beautiful. Alfred could see all the way to the nature parks several blocks over.  
  
He drifted towards the window, loving every second of being surrounded by a place so completely like the boy he now knew. If only he had trusted him sooner, maybe this would have happened sooner. He turned, leaning against the low windowsill.  
  
"I like it here," he said, breaking the slightly awkward silence that started since they walk in. "I hope your family likes me, that way I can come again."  
  
Ivan crossed the room, stopping less than a meter away. He seemed fidgety, like he didn't quite know what to do with his hands. "They like you, no need to worry about that."  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
"Because…" Ivan let his answer fade, too nervous about what Alfred would think if he voiced it.  
  
"Hey," Alfred pushed himself off of the windowsill, "You can say it. I won't care what your answer is." He tilted his head to the side so he could see more of Ivan's face. "I'm not going to judge you," he whispered.  
  
Ivan removed his gaze from the ground. He didn't quite look at Alfred in the eyes, more like his forehead. He took a deep breath before whispering, even softer, "Because you make me happy."  
  
Alfred's eyes widen in shock. After all this time that he thought Ivan couldn't stand him, he was actually making the other boy happy. He made Ivan happy!  
  
He shook his head, closing his eyes. "I thought I was pissing you off this entire time. I thought you couldn't stand me--that I was some annoyance you liked to aggravate."  
  
Ivan moved closer, raising his arms ever so slightly to embrace Alfred, but he decided against it last second, much to Alfred's disappointment. "I thought you thought the same things about me. For years."  
  
Alfred chuckled lightly. "I guess we didn't start very well, huh?"  
  
"No. I wouldn't say we did."  
  
"Well, let's start again. We can forget about all of the things we said and did." Alfred held his hand out, offer hanging in the air.  
  
Ivan's real smile came through. He didn't hold it back. It lit up everything, sending radiance and beauty shooting throughout the room. Alfred wasn't religious in the slightest, but he felt blessed to be able to witness a site like Ivan's smile.  
  
"Alright. It's nice to meet you, I'm Ivan Braginski. You?" He took Alfred's hand, giving it a firm shake, holding it longer than he needed to. Alfred beamed at him.  
  
"Likewise. I'm Alfred F. Jones."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do realize I haven't posted in a while. School has cracked across my back like a whip and I've currently been getting called to the councillors again. It's been a time and a half, but I'm still very sorry for taking so long in posting another chapter for you guys.  
Though I can't make any promises, I will put more effort into my writing schedule.  
Anywho, here is another chapter for you guys to eat up!  
Thanks, darlings!

Sitting on Ivan's bed, Alfred started to question why he was really here. Sure, he wanted to get closer to the Russian, and he knew they both felt bad for being so childish in the past. But... that didn't account for everything. 

It was 4:30pm. He had been there for at least two hours. He'd been with Ivan for even longer. But why? Alfred could have left at any time. Well, not really. He didn't have a way home other than Ivan and his car. Aside from that fact, Alfred was surprised to admit that he didn't want to leave. Even though he was always fighting Ivan and they constantly butt heads, Alfred didn't want to be anywhere else.

He felt safe.

The covers were soft under Alfred's calloused fingers. A part of him, a part very far down inside his chest, wanted to curl up into them, but he refrained himself. He looked over at Ivan, who was sitting cross legged on his bed, looking at the covers, avoiding Alfred's gaze. Again. Instead, he looked at Alfred's school bag that had been left by the closed door.

Alfred sighed. Ivan was much more awkward than he thought he'd be. It was cute though, seeing the big guy so shy. Alfred secretly loved it, though he did wish Ivan felt more comfortable around him. 

"So, when's dinner here?" He asked. Anything to break the silence. He couldn't have taken it any longer, it was crushing and suffocating the two boys, like a thick quilt on the hottest night of summer.

"Oh, are you hungry?" Ivan asked, sincerely. "I'm sorry! I didn't even offer you a drink when we got in!" He out his head in his hands, stating, " I'm a horrible host." He sounded so defeated that Alfred couldn't help but laugh. This made Ivan lift his head, revealing a full pout. Alfred laughed even harder.

He's too damn cute, he thought.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"Nothing. You're just cute." Fuck, I did not mean to say that! He screamed internally. Smooth, Al, smooth.

"Says you, дорогой." Ivan shifted closer to Alfred, looking into the depths of his blue eyes like he was searching through everything that Alfred had inside him. "You're stunning." Alfred's breath caught. Had Ivan just called him stunning?

Normally, Alfred would get annoyed by someone commenting on his body. His insecurities ran deep and tangled with every nerve in his body. He braced himself for the usual shame filled shivers, but they didn't come. Instead, the fluttering of a thousand pairs of butterfly wings erupted in his stomach. Heat kept up so his face, making him wish he had a scarf like Ivan's to hide behind.

He called me stunning!

For once, the complement felt nice, and he accepted it. "Uhuh, right," he said, his sarcastic tone mixed with playfulness making Ivan blink a couple times. 

Alfred was surprised to feel their knees touch. They had started on opposite sides of the large bed, so when did they get right in front of each other? Alfred's heart accelerated, his face getting even warmer. As much as he liked the contact, as much as he craved more of it, it felt like too much. It was their knees for Christ's sake! But it felt so... intimate.

Both boys jumped when a knock came on the door. They looked at each other, smiling and letting out breathy laughs of embarrassment.

"да?" Ivan called. The door squeaked open, Iryna's head popping out from behind. 

She looked at the two boys, analyzing their closeness. She smiled, mostly sweet, a little Cheshire. Her eyes glinted with a sort of pride. 

"Nothing," she sang, closing the door. 

Ivan and Alfred looked at each other, "what the fuck?" plastered all over their faces. They burst out gut laughing. It felt good, getting rid of all of that tension. Alfred was a bit disappointed that his moment with Ivan was interrupted, but it was also a bit of a save, not that he'd ever admit it.

After that, their conversations flowed easily. They talked about nearly anything not personal. They shared gossip on their siblings, tell incredibly dumb stories and secrets from elementary school. 

Simple and sweet.

They discovered a lot about one another. No crazy secrets, but it still felt like a big step forward. What was crazy was that only hours ago the only thing they shared was hatred. They had grown so much... Alfred didn't want to stop.

Eventually, they had to. It was getting late, and they had school the next day. The boys left Ivan's room, Alfred grabbing his bag along the way. They walked close together the entire time. The boys said goodbye to Ivan's family, Ivan saying he would drop off Alfred and come right home. 

The entire way to Alfred's house, the boys sang to the music from Alfred's phone. He played his "Fun and Boppy" playlist, dancing in his seat. 

While he sang, he would stop and tell Ivan which direction to turn, or to keep on the same road. The streets were barren, no one there. Meaning they, of course, put the music even louder. Who knew they'd both love it so much?

Sadly, they made it to Alfred's house all too soon. He shit down their car party, sticking his phone in his coat pocket. He wasn't overly eager to leave, so he said, "Tonight was fun. Thanks for kidnapping me from school."

Ivan giggled (it was totally a giggle, no more questions). "Any time," he said, smiling. They looked at one another. The atmosphere transformed from playful friendship to... something else. And electricity surrounded them, sending shocks to their cores. 

Alfred didn't sense himself leaning forward, eyes fluttering shut. Only when he felt cold, soft lips against his did Alfred realize what was happening. He was kissing Ivan! Ivan was kissing him! They were kissing each other!

Their lips moved gently, like a sweet caress. Ivan's hand came up to hold Alfred's face, sliding his thumb over his cheekbone.

They finally separated, gazing into each other's eyes. They didn't say a word, but it was clear to them what they wanted to say. Their foreheads were pressed together, Ivan's hand around the back of Alfred's neck. 

After a few more moments, they both knew Alfred had to go. Ivan still had to get home. So, Alfred grabbed his back, opening his door and climbing out. He turned last second, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow, Ivan."

"See you tomorrow, Alfred," he replied, voiced soft.

Alfred closed his door, walking up his lane. He turned back on the top step of his porch, waving to Ivan as he drove away. When the headlights were out of sight, Alfred went into his house, smiling the entire way to his room where he collapsed on his bed in a pile of grins and giggles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Since I felt bad about posting the previous chapter so close to the deadline, I'm posting this one earlier to, hopefully, make up for it. I will write a longer chapter soon, this is, again, to make up for my tardiness concerning the previous chapter. School has been getting busier for me, especially with more tests and assignments to do, but I'm pretty sure I can continue to meet my deadline for this fic. If not, I will post a heads up in my chapter notes.  
Also, I will try to incorporate more ships into this fic as I write, but they won't be the main focus. The spotlight will always be RusAme, but if you guys want some spin-offs for the other ships, comment it and I will attempt to either write a series of one-shots or, depending on their popularity, I'll start a whole new fic for them. Comment if you want that, and which ship you want that about.  
Thanks, darlings! <3

Alfred was still in shock when he walked through the school doors the next day. He had laid in his bed for hours, just touching his lips in awe that he had them kissed. And by Ivan, of all people. He felt like the thought should have revolted him, but the fireworks going on in his chest and stomach told him otherwise. He’d never been more happy.

Ivan, of all people. He felt like the thought should have revolted him, but the fireworks going on in his chest and stomach told him otherwise. He’d never been more happy. Now, it still ran through the front of his mind, causing him to be even more distracted than usual. All he wanted to do was crawl back to Ivan's car and kiss him all over again. 

Instead, he was sitting in his desk, listening to Mr. Matheson drone about how they had to watch "Julius Caesar".  _ How about you play the movie instead of talking? That may get us somewhere,  _ Alfred thought. Honestly, he wasn't bothered too much about not watching "Julius Caesar", or listening to the teacher go on and on about the themes of the movie. He just wanted one thing--for time to hurry the fuck up so he could make it to his free period. 

After seeing Caesar get betrayed by the Senate, and him getting stabbed with horrid acting, Alfred nearly cried tears of joy when the bell rang. He gathered his things, shooting a quick goodbye to Mr. Matheson as he left. 

As Alfred put the things he didn’t need in his locker, and the things he did need in his bag, a shadow came over him. Turning around, grinning, he looked up at Ivan.

“Hey,” he said, letting his happiness shine though his genuine smile. He was surprised to see Ivan’s face cast down, not even looking at Alfred. “What’s wrong?” Ivan didn’t reply. He was shaking. “Ivan,” Alfred pressed, getting up, “What is wrong?”

Ivan rushed out, “My grandparents are coming over tonight.” Panic was laced through his voice, making him sound like a scared child.

“I’m confused,” he replied. “I thought your grandparents were chill. That they accepted you.”

“They do,” Ivan said. “But, that was always when I was single. I don't think they'll act the same now that…” Ivan’s voice faded out, and Alfred understood why. They technically weren’t together, but Alfred wasn’t the kind of guy to just kiss someone with no interest in moving forward with them. He had the feeling that Ivan was the same. They didn’t say they were together, and they were both too nervous to now.

“They… they don’t know, though. No one does.”’

“But you came over. Think about it, Alfred. I had a guy over and we spent hours in my room. My family is not going to think we did nothing.” He paused, tapping one toe against the ground. “They’re just waiting for me to say we’re serious, then they’ll be all over it. And I don’t doubt that they’ll end up bringing it up in front of my  дедушка и бабушка.”

“You don’t know how they’ll react.” Alfred understood this feeling. It would be like coming out all over again, and if Ivan’s grandparents really were that set in their ways, there’s no question as to why he’d be scared. “So what are you saying? Why are you telling me this?” A thought dawned on Alfred, and he silently prayed he was wrong. “Are you… suggesting we don’t…” How to put it… “Move forward?”

“No!” Ivan practically yelled. Relief flooded through Alfred’s entire body. “No, o-of course not. I just…” Alfred witnessed all the fight go out of Ivan at once as he said, “I’m scared. I don’t want to be around that.”

That gave Alfred an idea, a crazy, possibly stupid idea that may bite him in the ass later. “Why don’t you come to my place?”

Ivan’s head snapped up like a whip. “What?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“Come to my place,” Alfred stated, no longer questioning his choice. “It’ll get you out of there while your grandparents visit, then you can have a game plan for when you go home and you’ll have time to chill out.”

“You’d do that for me?” Ivan breathed. Alfred couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Ivan, I let you basically kidnap me, take me to your house for hours, and then I made out with you in your car. I don’t see why you’re surprised.” Ivan’s face was now a tomato. Alfred laughed, knowing he was probably blushing a bit, too. It was one thing to think about it, it was another to actually admit it.

“I-I guess I see your point,” he replied, pulling his scarf over his mouth and smiling. 

_ God, he’s gonna be the death of me _ , Alfred thought. He turned and grabbed his stuff, closing his locker and locking it. Slipping the straps over his shoulders, he said, “you wanna go now?”

“Let’s just get my stuff,” Ivan replied.

The two boys went to Ivan’s locker, a few halls away from Alfred’s. As they walked, Ivan said, “I hate to crash this, but I don’t think I remember the place to your house.”

“I can drive,” Alfred offered. “Unless you don’t want me driving your car, which I’d understand.”

“No, you can drive. I don’t mind. You already said that we drive similarly.”

There was an odd tense to Ivan’s voice. Alfred assumed it was because he was coming to his house. Ivan got his things quickly, and then the two were off to the parking lot. 

There was a lot more cars than yesterday, which was probably because it was a Friday. That meant a party somewhere. Despite Alfred’s anxiety, he went to some if he knew the person hosting, and they were pretty fun. Maybe he could ask Ivan to come to one…

They got in the car. “Are you sure you don’t mind me driving your car?” Alfred double checked.

“Да,” Ivan replied, nodding his head. He tossed him the keys over the car. Alfred caught them and climbed in.

It was always weird to drive other people’s cars. Though he could drive, and he did have a car, Alfred rarely took his to school for one reason; the student parking lot. It was such a pain in the ass to get out of, and Alfred was glad they were leaving early so he didn’t have to deal with everyone else’s poor driving. 

After making it out of the school parking lot (a dreadful experience, really) he was home-bound. Ivan eventually asked, “So, what’s your family like?”

Alfred thought on how to explain them. They were a confusing mess to most people. “Well, you know Mattie, I’d say he’s the most chill, usually. Then there’s my mom and dad, who are kind of psycho sometimes, but also really cool. My cousin and his fiance live with us, too. They’re going to university close by and we had extra rooms.”

“Full house,” Ivan remarked.

“Yeah, but it’s not bad. I like having my cousin close, though I’ll never admit that to him.” He stopped at a red light, turning his face so he was fake glaring at Ivan. “You better not tell him I said that.”

He chuckled. “I won’t.”

The drive to Alfred’s house was quiet, the engine providing a constant white noise in the background. They got there quickly. Alfred was surprised to see an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. He felt himself go rigid as he killed the engine. 

He jumped a bit when Ivan took his hand. It felt like an ice block had covered his hand. He looked up. Ivan looked calm as the clouds floating by. 

“It’s probably one of Mathew’s friends, you know that.” For a moment, Alfred didn’t know what he meant, but it was obvious that the Russian had read him, again.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that,” he joked, shaking his head and getting out of the car. He heard Ivan’s giggle as they got their bags and walked up to the door. 

Alfred had to admit, there were times when he walked in on his brother doing some weird stuff. Dancing to “Foot Loose” in his boxers and socks, trying to impersonate John Travolta in “Hairspray”, crying while reading Heroes of Olympus, screaming at the T.V. that the killer was obvious and those detectives were, “fucking idiots who were too busy staring at the vitims boobs to do their job the fucking cunt eaters.” He got really into crime T.V. The list went on forever, but this… oh, this took the cake.

Alfred had just taken off his shoes and walked into the living room when he saw “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” playing on the T.V. while his twin brother sucked the face off of some guy while sitting on his lap.

Alfred screamed. He couldn’t help it. There were some things not meant to be seen, and that was one of them. Matthew whipped his head around, sapphire eyes widening when he saw Alfred.

“What are you doing here?!” he yelled. Matthew swung himself off of his “guest”, allowing Alfred to see who it was.

“What do you mean? I live here! Why are you sucking the face off of--G-gilbert Beilschmidt?!” Alfred nearly screeched. “Since when were you seeing him?!”

“Since when were you seeing Ivan Braginski?” Matthew retorted, making Alfred’s face heat up.

“I-I am not seeing Ivan, are you fucking crazy?” 

It was like a sitcom, the twins yelling and the (near) boyfriends sitting there, not knowing what to do. After another few minutes of the twins yelling, they stopped, staring at each other. The tension in the room built, making the other two shift in place. Eventually, Alfred caved and started laughing, causing Matthew to laugh, too.

“I can’t believe I just walked on you being dicked down on the couch,” he cackled.

“I was not being dicked down!” Mattie protested, much quieter than earlier. The usual Mattie. 

“Uhuh, okay.” Alfred turned his attention to Mattie’s apparent boyfriend. “Hurt him, you’re dead,” he said, pointing. He knew Gilbert wouldn’t, he was a cool guy, but he had to say it. He was protective. 

“Yessir,” Gilbert replied, mock saluting. Matthew rolled his eyes, taking Gilbert by the hand, leading him to his room.

“That was…” Ivan tried to speak, but he was a bit confused over what had just taken place. He’d never seen Matthew talk louder than butterfly wings. It was offsetting. Alfred merely chuckled and took Ivan by the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling him to the couch. They both sat down, and Alfred desperately wanted to kiss him again. He wished he had Mattie’s confidence so he could climb on top of Ivan and just kiss him.

But because he was not Mattie, and he did not have his confidence, he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and reversed the movie to the beginning. The two boys watched intently, eventually letting go of their nervousness and settling into the couch. About halfway through the movie Ivan had curled into Alfred’s side, putting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. 

They stayed that way until the end credits scenes rolled. And then a bit longer after that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of kisses and some fluff near the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this chapter is kinda short, but I felt that there was enough done and it ended on a... interesting note. Hopefully you guys are pleased with this addition, and I'll post again soon.  
Thanks, Darlings! <3

There was something wrong with Ivan.

They had been snuggled together on the couch for the entire movie, and everything was fine. Better than fine! But about thirty minutes after the end credits, Ivan had gone tense and quiet. Negative energy was rolling of him, making the room frigid and uncomfortable. It was starting to annoy Alfred--he hated quiet anger. If there was a problem, than say it! 

"Is there something wrong?" he asked. Ivan remained silent. "Ivan," he tried again, "is there something wrong?" 

"What you said earlier," Ivan reluctantly replied. 

"Huh?"

The Russian took a deep breath. "What you said to Matthew earlier, that we weren't...  _ aren't _ seeing each other." He turned his head away so Alfred couldn't see his face, pulling his scarf up to his nose. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"What--no!" Alfred got up quickly, startling Ivan into looking at him with wide eyes. Alfred didn't know what to say; that wasn't anywhere close to how he felt. He said it because... well... he didn't know. He said anything during arguments, and he didn't think his words through first. It tended to bite him in the ass, like right then. "Ivan, I... I don't watch what I say during arguments,  _ especially _ with Matthew. I go with how I feel, and I was honestly quite... flustered in that moment--and we hadn't talked about what we are." 

Ivan went to turn his head away again, one hand still holding his scarf to his nose.  _ He’s closing himself off _ , Alfred realized. He reached out, turning his head back to face him and moving closer. Ivan still had his eyes downcast.

“I understand but… I can’t shake the feeling of sadness,” he mumbled.

Instead of giving up, Alfred came up with a plan. It was a make or break. He prayed it was a make.

He swung one leg over Ivan so he was sitting on his lap facing him. He raised Ivan’s face by the chin so they were looking at each other. Pulling Ivan’s scarf down, he kissed him. It wasn’t the same as the car kiss. The uncertainty and hesitation were gone, replaced by affection and confidence. They moved their lips against one another, not slow, but not fast. Alfred wrapped his arms around Ivan’s neck while the other boy did the same around Alfred’s waist. Ivan pulled him closer, never breaking the kiss. They were lost in each other to the point that they barely registered Gilbert say, “Not seeing each other, huh?” Matthew snickered beside him.

The boys pulled away, looking at the couple, wondering when they had gotten to the bottom of the stairs, like two deer caught in headlights. Alfred just rolled his eyes, flipping them off and resumed kissing the boy he was still sitting on. Ivan caught on quickly to the game that Alfred was playing, and made the great move of sliding his hands into the back pockets of Alfred’s jeans. 

Matthew screamed as Gilbert laughed. Ivan didn’t stop there; he took his hands out of Alfred’s pockets, standing up, taking the American with him. Alfred let out a small squeal of surprise as Ivan walked over, and buried his face in his shoulder when he asked, “which way to his room?” 

Matthew’s face was slack with disbelief as he pointed upstairs. Ivan didn’t even break a sweat as he carried Alfred up the stairs. Alfred looked at Matthew and Gilbert, flipping them both off as he was carried away.

When they got to Alfred’s room, Ivan immediately took him to the bed, laying him down gently and taking his place beside him. The blonde took him by the collar of his knitted sweater, pulling him into another kiss. Ivan rolled so he was above Alfred and kissed back, pressing him down into the bed. They made out for quite a while, like, a  _ long _ while. When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless. Alfred felt drunk, head spinning and body heavy. 

“Maybe he should slow down,” he suggested.

“Maybe,” Ivan agreed. “It is only the second date.”

“Oh, a date is it? I thought we weren’t seeing each other.” Alfred grinned. Ivan squinted at him, pretending to glare.

“Do I need to cuddle that attitude out of you?” he threatened. 

“Yes,” came Alfred’s speedy reply. Ivan giggled, rolling as he took Alfred with him. Roles now reversed, Ivan wrapped his arms around Alfred again. Meanwhile, the smaller boy got comfortable, laying on the other, resting his head on his muscular chest, smiling. 

They stayed like that, Ivan kissing the top of Alfred’s head every one in a while and Alfred looking up to give quick pecks to Ivan’s soft cheeks. Eventually, the two boys fell asleep, all cuddled up. They didn’t wake up when the car pulled up the lane.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
Once again, I am close to a deadline :( But on a better note, I have gotten feedback on other writing works of mine, which I can apply to this work to make it even more enjoyable for you! I am always trying to improve and make each chapter of this fic better than the last. One last note, I have a hardcore soft spot in my heart for Punk!England, don't even judge me.  
Thanks, darlings <3

It was the frantic knock on the door that awoke Alfred. He untangled his limbs from Ivan’s as quickly as he could, stumbling to the door. He opened it, ready to bark at the person who woke him up. Behind him, Ivan rolled over, trying to doze back off.

Matthew stood there, wringing his hands, worry plastered all over his face. He looked up quickly, spouting, "Mom and Dad are back. So is the engaged war."

Alfred's blood drained from his face. "Oh, shit," he muttered. Leaving the door open, he scrambled over to Ivan, shaking him awake. "Ivan," he hissed. When he didn't get up, Alfred tried again, a bit louder. " _ Ivan,  _ get up. My parents are home."

That did the trick. Ivan bolted upright in bed, awake and alert. Eyes wide, he looked at Alfred. "Should we get out of here?" he asked, worry laced into his voice. 

"No, it's okay just... let's make the bed so it doesn't look like we were sleeping," he hastily replied. 

"Maybe fix your clothes and hair, too," Matthew called gently. Always looking out for his brother, and always meaning the best.

As Ivan swung himself out of bed, running fingers roughly through his hair, Alfred started to fix the bed sheets. "Thanks, Mattie."

"No problem." With that, Matthew went downstairs.

In a matter of moments, the two boys had the room looking like they were never in it, and themselves swiped clean of remnants from their nap. Just in time, too, because once they sat back down on the bed and started casual conversation about school, footsteps came back up the stairs. 

Alfred turned, seeing someone stopped at his door again. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible. The newcomer leaned against the doorframe. He had messy, punk blonde hair, thick eyebrows raised in surprise, and emerald green eyes. His thin pale lips were pulled back into a grin. He was slim at first glance, but it was really because he had no fat on his body, only muscle. He wore a green button up tucked into corduroy pants with a shiny brown belt. His many ear piercings were the only thing that threw off his gentleman persona. Well, other than the tattoos Alfred knew were covered by his shirt (he had been trusted to help place them so no one would see them).

“Who’s this?” he asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred could see Ivan blink in surprise at the newcomers British accent.

“Hello, allow me to introduce myself,” said Ivan standing up and walking over. “I’m Ivan Braginsky.” He held out his hand in greeting.

The newcomer smiled, planting himself firmly on both feet, back obscenely straight. “It’s nice to meet you, Ivan. I’ve heard lots about you. I’m Arthur Kirkland.” They shook hands, both smiling at each other. To Alfred, it was obvious that Ivan was confused and Arthur was nervous, and to spare them both from awkwardness, he stepped in.

“Ivan, Arthur’s my cousin who’s staying with us while he’s in school,” Alfred explained, getting up and standing next to Ivan, careful not to be too close. Arthur, however, was not one to be fooled so easily. His analistic gaze passed over his room, lingering in the freshly made bed.

“Oh, yes,” Ivan smiled his oddly childlike smile. “I remember now, Alfred told me about you.”

“Oh, really?” questioned Arthur. “What did he say, exactly?”

“That you were here with your fiance, studying in school,” replied Ivan. He left out the part about Alfred caring deeply about him, which he was more than grateful for.

Arthur laughed. “So not the usual ‘he’s a bastard and I hate him’. That’s new.” Ivan laughed, too. “Alfred,” Arthur asked, “where are your spectacles?” He gave him a smug side smirk.  _ Shit _ .

“I had a headache and I took them off,” Alfred lied. 

“You might want to put them on before Auntie and Uncle find out about your ‘headache’,” he replied, using quotation hand gestures when he said ‘headache’. Alfred frowned at him, annoyed by the fact that Arthur was right, and that he’d forgotten to put them back on. Arthur chuckled, watching Alfred go back to his bedside table to retrieve his glasses. “Better,” Arthur laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Alfred huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Arthur gave one last smug glance at Alfred, then turned to leave. When he got to the top of the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder, saying, “Auntie and Uncle want you to come downstairs with Ivan. They want to meet them. And just in case you aren’t enticed, they brought back food for everyone.” Arthur made a point to look at Ivan then, silently saying there was some for him, too.

Alfred laughed. “You always know how to get me interested.”

Arthur let out a huff, then went downstairs towards the voices of his family (and Gilbert). Alfred waited a couple seconds, making sure no one else would come upstairs, then grabbed Ivan by the back of the neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. “I hope they brought back McD’s,” he murmured against his lips. Ivan chuckled as they kissed again. Moving apart from one another, they went downstairs.

In the living room, everyone was seated. Matthew and Gilbert were cuddled on the love seat. Arthur and his fiance were sitting side by side on the sofa, much closer than need be. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were sitting in matching rocking chairs with piles of cushions. Everyone was facing the T.V. with their food either on tables or in their laps.

_ Oh, fuck, _ Alfred silently cursed himself. How could he have forgotten? Friday night was movie night at the Jones’. This was really,  _ really _ bad.

Here was the thing, if someone missed movie night, that was fine. You could miss a movie night and not be shunned out of the family.  _ However _ , if you brought someone else to movie night, oh dear lord, that was  _ big _ . Inviting someone else to movie night was the equivalent of asking for permission to marry them. Okay, maybe not that big, but pretty close.

And Alfred had completely forgot. He had been so wrapped up in Ivan and how he felt about him that he forgot about movie night. He felt like the biggest idiot of all time. He’d just outed himself and Ivan to his entire family by doing something he could have easily avoided. 

Without making eye contact with anyone, he bee-lined for the kitchen, Ivan following him. Once they were out of site, Alfred grabbed Ivan by his thick biceps, shaking him as he whispered, “I’ve fucked up big time!”

Ivan gave him a puzzled expression. “What do you mean, возлюбленный?”

“It’s movie night!” Alfred briefly explained movie night and it’s significance to Ivan, and how he’d practically outed their relationship to his family.

“Well, if it helps any, Matthew already knew, and I believe your cousin--”

“Arthur.”

“--already suspected as much. He’s probably told his fiance by now. That only leaves your parents.” Gently, he removed Alfred’s iron gripped hands from his arms. “I know you’re scared--it’s your parents meeting your… whatever I am--”

“My boyfriend.”

Ivan smiled as he continued. “Your parents meeting your  _ boyfriend _ , and you want them to like me and for this to be a smooth get-to-know-you type of situation. I’ll tell you now, chances are it won’t be. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be bad, and I want them to like me, too.” Holding hands in the kitchen, he added, “I think they knew I was here. Arthur hinted that they did, anyway.”

“Damn Arthur, I blame him.”

“Why?”

“Because I always do.” They laughed softly. “Let’s grab food,” Alfred suggested. He moved and leaned into the doorway connecting the kitchen to the living room. “Hey, mom,” he called. “Which one is ours?”

“The brown bag on the right hand side,” she replied in a sing-song voice. She  _ definitely _ knew something was up between the two boys. Alfred sighed, thanking her and slipping back into the kitchen. Alfred got the bag, taking out it’s contents. McD’s, and his favourite order, too.

“How did she know exactly what I like?” Ivan asked, holding up his order and looking at Alfred, absolutely puzzled. He shrugged in response. Once he and Ivan grabbed their stuff, they went into the living room. Mattie and Gilbert paid no mind. Arthur smirked at him from his fiance’s side.

That fiance. Alfred knew that Arthur loved him, but their relationship still puzzled him from time to time. He did, really. Long flowy golden locks, ocean eyes, flawless skin, perfect nose, fuller soft lips, slight blonde stubble, and model build didn’t seem to yell Arthur’s type at all. He wore clothes that Alfred wouldn’t be caught dead in--a blue silk button up not fully buttoned tucked into black pants with a leather belt. There was also the fact that he was french. Arthur wasn’t a big fan of the french--it was an ongoing joke in the family. But seeing the two of them together, snuggling on the couch with their food, bickering, nothing ever looked more perfect to Alfred.

Alfred and Ivan sat on the other side of the couch, setting their food and drinks on the glass coffee table in front of them. They didn’t cuddle immediately, but they did sit close, sides touching completely. There was no point in hiding, everyone knew.

Mr. Jones got up, walking over to Ivan. “I’m Alfred’s dad.” they shook hands, and Mrs. Jones got went over to Ivan, too. She went straight for a hug.

“Oh, baby, I haven’t seen you in forever!” she exclaimed, releasing him. 

“Pardon?” Ivan asked.

“Oh, you probably don’t remember, but I used to help run the daycare you went to after school.” She smiled at him, obviously not expecting him to remember.

The lightbulb that went off in his head could be seen by everyone else in the room. “Oh my god,” he laughed. “I remember now--you would always throw the dance parties before snack time, and sneak me the McD’s!” 

_ That’s how she knew his order, _ Alfred though.

Mrs. Jones laughed. “Yep, that was me!” She looked at him, standing back to take in how tall and big he’d gotten. “My Lord, Ivan. You’ve gotten so tall! You’re mom told me you were on the rugby team again, but she didn’t say how big you’d gotten.” She blushed, adding, “I mean that in the best possible way, darling.”

Alfred could see him resist the urge to pull his scarf up. “It’s no offense to me, Mrs. Jones. He turned, looking at Arthur’s new pillow. “You must be Arthur’s fiance,” he said in an attempt to change the subject. It worked.

“Oui,” he replied, getting up, causing Arthur to fall onto the couch. Alfred laughed at him, which caused a glare and a fry to be thrown at him. He extended a hand. “I’m Francis Bonnefoy. You can call me Francis.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Francis,” Ivan said, shaking his hand.

“Likewise, mon ami.”

Everyone took their seats again. After five minutes of arguing over what movie to play, they all finally agreed on “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets”. As they munched on fast food and sipped pop, Alfred and Ivan moved closer and closer until Ivan was completely resting on him and Alfred’s arm was wrapped around him. Alfred ignored the glances from Arthur and Mattie, enjoying the moment and the beautiful boy who was quoting lines under his breath. Nerd.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
Another chapter up in decent time, woohoo!  
This chapter was... different to write, for obvious reasons. I'm more used to writing fluffy stuff, so I apologize if my sexy shit sounds weird. I tried.  
Also, the first chapter of my spin-off story has been posted! I posted it yesterday, and, looking back on it, I should have waited until I made the announcement on here, but oh well. The spin-off focuses on FrUk, so Francis and Arthur, and their lives together, and has it's own plot and what not. It does mention some "Be a Hero" stuff, but it won't always.   
Anyway, that's enough notes.  
Thanks, darlings <3

“It’s getting late,” Mr. Jones said. “You should probably start heading back soon, Ivan.”

Alfred grumbled. His dad just  _ had _ to pull the “it’s getting late” card. Such a dad move. And right when Alfred had dared to think about what it would be like to actually wake up beside Ivan without being forced or rushed. It was the ultimate shitty.

Of course, Mrs. Jones, the psychic (more like mom, but Alfred liked psychic more), picked up on Alfred’s shift in mood. “Unless you want to stay here for the night, of course,” she added. Mr. Jones looked at his wife, doing nothing to conceal his surprise. She looked back at him, smiling innocently. They had a staring contest, their version of a disagreement. As per usual, Mr. Jones blinked first, breaking eye contact.

“There’s more than enough space in Alfred’s room. We can bring up the spare mattress as well, if you don’t want to share a bed,” Mrs. Jones said, giving Alfred a  _ look _ .

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No problem, sweetie,” she replied, walking over and giving him a peck on the cheek. “You owe me,” she whispered in his ear. He gave her a hug, then turned to face Ivan. 

“Tired?” he asked.

“A bit,” Ivan admitted sheepishly. He pulled his scarf up to his nose, breathing in a little deeper than before. Only Alfred noticed. He walked over, gave Ivan’s hand a brief touch, a notion to follow him, then made his way towards the stairs.

When the two boys got to his room, Ivan walked to the bed, Alfred shut the door. Right before he sat down next to Ivan, a knock made him stop. He gave a hefty sigh. “Who is it?” he called grumpily.

Instead of responding, Arthur opened the door and walked in. “Auntie really puts a lot of trust in you, huh?” He gave a quick glance to Ivan, implying what he meant; Mrs. Jones trusted them to not fuck.

“More like she’s already used to it from you and Francis,” Alfred retorted. He could hear Ivan giggle behind him.

Arthur walked up to him. He was shorter than Alfred by a bit, even though he was four years older. “We both know that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” There was no hint of amusement in his voice, only business. “Did you mean to invite Ivan over for movie night?”

Of course, now Arthur was going to drill him for being forgetful about plans and what not. He was always drilling him for not being more of a gentleman. Alfred could just lie, but Arthur always saw through it. It was easier to tell the truth. “No, I forgot.”

“Then why did you invite him? You’re not the type to let people in so quickly and invite them to your home.” He squinted, like he was trying to pull the answers out of Alfred. 

Alfred took a deep breath in. “Because I spent the day over at Ivan’s yesterday, and I thought I’d return his hospitality,” he said curtly. 

Arthur stared directly into his eyes, tension building around them, crackling, as he read it all from Alfred. It’s what he did when he didn’t think he was getting full answers. Obviously, it wasn’t exact, but he would get an idea of what really happened. “I see,” he said. Turning to Ivan and smiling, he said, “well, I’m glad you did join us for movie night. It was an absolute pleasure to have you, Ivan.” With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him, relieving the tension.

“That was strange,” Ivan chirped.

Alfred let out the breath he’d been holding in. “I hate it when he does that,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

“Does what?” Ivan asked.

“Interrogates me like that.” Before Ivan could cut in, he added, “It’s all with his eyes. He takes in everything that he can just see, like my glasses missing, comes to a few possible conclusions, then picks apart whatever my eyes give away to get a final answer.” He flopped down next to Ivan. “The worst part is that he’s right every. Single. Time.” Pouting, he buried his face in Ivan’s chest. 

Ivan gave a low chuckle, falling back and taking Alfred with him, causing Alfred to let out a very un-heroic squeal. Their roles from earlier were reversed; Alfred on top of Ivan this time. Ivan’s arms were around Alfred’s waist, causing a little flame of warm to spark in his chest, spreading to the rest of his body.

“You’re too cute, возлюбленный,” he said, staring Alfred in the eyes. Alfred kissed Ivan, smiling against his lips. “Can I ask a question?” He asked once they parted. 

“Anytime,” Alfred replied.  _ It’s probably about what Arthur said, how I don’t normally open up, little bitch exposing me. _

“If you knew Matthew had a boyfriend, why were you so surprised to see him with Gilbert?”

_ Ahh, that. _ “How do I explain this?” Alfred started. “Well, it’s kinda like this; Mattie and I rarely give each other the full story when it comes to those types of things. We get half, then we figure out the other half. We’re more comfortable that way--those things are awkward. I was in the process of guessing who Mattie’s boyfriend was, since he never told me who it was.” Alfred laughed, adding, “he never actually told me he had a boyfriend--I saw hickeys all over the side of his neck when he came home one day after he had gone out with “friends”.” Alfred even used hand-quotation mark gestures for effect.

Ivan knit his eyebrows together. “That sounds odd to me. Then again, my older sister always shared too much.”

Alfred winced. “Yikes.”

“Mmhmm. A lot of things I didn’t need to know have been scarred into my mind.”

“You poor boy,” Alfred laughed, going in for another kiss.

“Very,” Ivan agreed, closing the distance. 

_ Fuck, this feels so right _ , Alfred thought, letting a soft hum vibrate his lips against Ivan’s. Taking it as encouragement, Ivan slipped one arm from around Alfred’s waist, moving his hand down, down, so  _ slowly _ . He flipped them again, gently this time, plotting one hand firmly on Alfred’s ass and squeezing. Alfred’s breath hitched. He intertwined his legs with Ivan’s, wrapping his arms around his neck. Pretty soon, the two boys had dropped the slow kisses, replacing them with desperate ones. They both wanted more, though they knew it wasn’t a good idea. They were new after all. 

Though he tried, Alfred couldn’t help himself. His hands slipped underneath Ivan’s shirt, relishing in the feeling of his abs against his hands. Ivan more than returned the favour. With a low, nearly animalistic, growl that went straight to Alfred’s dick, he tore the other boy’s shirt off over his head. Alfred gasped, letting out a low moan as Ivan latched himself to the side of his neck, sucking and biting.

Of course, he had to go for one of Alfred’s weak spots, the neck. A lucky guess, but also quite easy to guess. The American felt his limbs go heavy with arousal as the other boy continued marking him. Only when it was too late did Alfred think of how he was going to cover these up from his family. At that moment, Alfred didn’t care. He’d wait until later, because this felt way too good to stop.

Ivan’s body caged him against the bed, making any escape impossible. Alfred didn’t want to escape--he didn’t want to stop. It felt _ so good _ , and… and…

Ivan stopped, making Alfred groan in disappointment. “You alright?” He asked studying Alfred’s face. “You’re breathing was speeding up quite a bit.”

“F-fine,” Alfred responded, his breath shaky. Ivan crooked an eyebrow at him, obviously not believing what he was saying. “It’s just… well…” This was so embarrassing. How did he explain that Ivan had already guessed one of his major turn-ons? “I really like it when someone kisses my neck!” he rushed out, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see the other boy’s reaction.

Ivan blinked in surprise, then a set look of determination overtook his face. “Is that so?” he asked, lowering himself back down to Alfred’s neck. “What happens if I do this?” He tensed his tongue, licking down the bruises that were already blossoming furiously. Alfred sucked in a breath, keeping his pressed shut. He didn’t say a thing, not trusting his voice.

Ivan took off Alfred’s glasses as he kept going, trying out new things, placing the glasses on the nightstand. Alfred now bared bite marks on both sides of his neck. Gasping so he didn’t moan, Alfred lost himself and his control, grinding up against the other boy’s crotch. He shuddered at how hard he was, the fact that  _ he _ could make someone that hard.

Ivan took a sharp breath when Alfred grinded a second time, haltering in his markings. Alfred took his moment of hesitation to his advantage, flipping them over before Ivan could react. Alfred quickly got back up, straddling Ivan’s waist. With a wicked grin, he moved his hips again, Ivan gasping, grabbing his hips,  _ hard _ .

For a moment, Alfred feared that Ivan would push him off, rejecting him. Or he’d be disgusted by how needy Alfred was being (there was no denying the horny). His fears were irrational, considering how Ivan used his impressive strength to move Alfred’s hip harder and faster against his own, making them both groan.

“Блядь,” Ivan panted, squeezing Alfred’s hips even harder. They’d be bruised the next morning, he was sure. At that moment, he didn’t care. His mind was hazy with pleasure, and he was having a hard time staying quiet.

Hands firmly planted on Ivan’s chest, he sped up his movements even more, grinding down on Ivan with a desperation and need he didn’t know he was capable of. His boyfriend slipped his hands under his waistband, eyebrows raising when he felt what was in his pants.

“Ебена мать,” he stammered, eyes fluttering from pleasure. Alfred could only let out a soft moan, then Ivan squeezed his ass again, which made him let out a louder moan. He clasped a hand against his mouth, eyes wide. He looked at the door, stopping his movements. When he knew no one was coming, he slowly lowered his hand, looking down at Ivan.

The site under him nearly made him moan again. Ivan’s hair was glinting in the moonlight coming through the open window. His pale face was flushed a brilliant rose, eyes half open, long lashes projecting shadows on his high cheekbones. His scarf was loose around his neck, and Alfred could see his killer jawline fully for the first time.

“You’re gorgeous,” slipped out of Alfred’s mouth before he could think. His mind was still foggy with pleasure, but he knew that it was true. His heart throbbed when Ivan smiled, momentarily showing off pearly whites.

“You’re more gorgeous,” Ivan replied, stroking the side of the boy’s cheek. Alfred leaned down and kissed him sweetly. Ivan wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck, not holding him down. “Do you think anyone heard us?” he asked tentatively.

“I think we’d would already be in shit if someone did,” Alfred replied, smiling at Ivan. “But we shouldn’t push our luck.”

“You’re right,” Ivan agreed. He looked down at their obvious hard-ons. “But…”

“Take turns in the bathroom?” Alfred suggested. With Ivan’s agreement, he slipped off his lap. Ivan let him go first, and it didn’t take long for Alfred to finish, his legs nearly giving out as he spilled into the toilet (what? No mess that way). Before he got out, he inspected his neck and chest. It was covered in marks. Dark hickeys and red bites covered from ear to shoulder on both sides. Out of curiosity, Alfred shifted his waistband down. He was right, there were grip marks on his hips. If he hadn’t just orgasmed, that would have tipped him over the edge.

He fixed his pants, and prayed that no one would be in the hall on his way back to his room. 

Alfred made it back no problem, giving Ivan the thumbs up to go ahead. When the other boy left, Alfred walked to the bed. He checked the time on his clock beside his bed.  **12:59am** . With sandpaper eyelids, he watched it turn to  **1:00am** . Exhaustion wracked his body, and he stripped down to just his boxers and dove into bed, like usual. 

It was only when he heard the door open, shut, and footsteps travel to his bed did he realize his mistake. Ivan was crawling into bed with him, and he was nearly naked. He knew it was too late when the bed dipped, Ivan slipping under the covers. Alfred jumped when Ivan went to hold him.

“Alfred? What’s wrong?” he asked reaching for his shoulder.

“I, uhh, I normally sleep in just boxers, so I may or may not have stripped down forgetting we had to share a bed,” Alfred mumbled.

He heard Ivan chuckle behind him, sitting back up. Alfred turned around, watching him take off his shirt, keeping the scarf on. He undid his buckle, than shimmied out of his jeans. Alfred blushed when Ivan made eye contact with him.

“Better?” he asked. 

“No,” Alfred replied, pulling him down so they could cuddle. The bedside lamp was still on, and Alfred reached over Ivan to turn it off, asking, “Are you not going to take off the scarf?” Ivan stiffened, going quiet. “What is it?” Alfred felt concern pool in his gut and clenched his heart.

“I…” he took a deep breath. “I don’t ever take my scarf off when other people are around,” Ivan admitted. Instead of pushing for why that was, Alfred took a different approach. Ivan was uncomfortable, and Alfred wanted to make it better for him.

“What if you took it off after we turn out the light?” he offered. Ivan looked so nervous, but there was trust in his eyes. He gave a tentative nod.

Alfred made the final move and turned out the light. As he moved back to his side of the bed, Ivan sat up, unwrapping his scarf. Alfred couldn’t see anything but vague silhouettes moving in the dark, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the room. He laid down, pulling the covers up to his shoulder. Ivan carefully folded his scarf, setting it on Alfred’s nightstand. 

He laid back down next to Alfred, making another attempt to hold Alfred. This time, Alfred let himself be pulled towards Ivan’s cold body. He cuddled into his strong chest, wrapping one leg around Ivan’s waist.

“Good night, возлюбленный,” Ivan said, kissing the top of Alfred’s head.

“‘Night,” he replied with a yawn.

They boys fell asleep like that, cradling each other in their arms, legs intertwined. They protected one another from nightmares and boogie men, sleeping peacefully through the night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
So, another chapter done and completed! I will admit, I had trouble getting this one started. I've been getting some writer's block since I picked up a third project--not a fic--recently. Currently, I'm writing four things at once, not including what I have to write for school. Please try to keep in mind that I am also a full-time student with a very busy life, so if I post a little late, I swear it's not due to me being lazy, I'm just super flippin' busy!  
Also, I thought I'd explain something about my fic while I'm at it; I do make up some characters. All the teachers are made up. I debated using other characters, but I wanted to keep them relatively close in age, so I opted against that in the end. Also, Mr. and Mrs. Braginsky, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Jones are made up as well, which you probably guessed. I did, however, base Mr. Braginsky in General Winter from the "Hetalia: Axis Powers" series.  
Aywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
Thanks, darlings <3

Alfred rolled over, half awake, half asleep. The sun made spots through his eyelids, so he stuck his face into his pillow, his very hard, cold pillow. Wait… hard, cold pillow? That wasn’t right.

The memories of the previous night crashed into him, his eyes springing open. His face was not in a pillow, it was in Ivan’s chest! He backed up a bit, now facing a sleeping Ivan, a sight that he nearly coo-ed at. The sunlight illuminated his face, giving off a soft glow. His short platinum hair was messily sprawled out on the pillow, his face muscles relaxed, lips slightly parted. His breathing was deep. The covers were pooled around his waist, showing off his spectacular physique. It took Alfred’s breath away--they guy looked like he was chiseled from stone! While his face was mostly soft curves and light touches, the rest of his body was sharp turns and harsh lines. The contrast added to his overall attraction, something Alfred didn’t need right at that moment. 

Alfred was so busy staring in wonder at the gorgeous guy in his bed that he nearly missed Ivan’s eyes open. He snapped his gaze up, blushing like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Ivan gave him a dazed smile.

“доброе утро, возлюбленный,” he mumbled, letting out a yawn that he tried to stifle by turning his face into the pillow.

“Morning,” Alfred replied, letting out a soft chuckle at the sight of a drowsy Ivan. When Ivan went up to reach for his scarf, both of their eyes widened in shock. For Ivan, it was the fact that Alfred was seeing him without his scarf, but for Alfred, he now understood why Ivan always wore it.

There was a nasty, jagged scar all along the front of his neck, passing right over his throat. A thousand emotions hit Alfred at once; fear, confusion, anger, sadness, curiosity. But all he could do was lay there, mouth open but no words would form. 

Ivan averted his gaze, ashamed for a reason Alfred didn’t understand. Slowly, in a haze of shock and surprise, he reached out. Ivan flinched when his fingers brushed against the scar, but Alfred didn’t stop. Instead, keeping the slow pace, he traced along the scar, from one end to another. Alfred could tell that Ivan was tense. He pulled his hand back, then felt underneath the covers for Ivan’s cold hand, found it, and squeezed it tight.

“That’s why you didn’t want to take your scarf off last night,” he stated softly, like he was speaking to a child. Ivan nodded, tears forming in his eyes. “Hey, hey,” Alfred said, pulling the other boy into his arms. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” He held Ivan as the boy took in shaky breaths. He clung to Alfred like he was a raft and Ivan was drowning. 

They stayed that way until Ivan’s breathing returned to normal. He rolled off of Alfred, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Alfred replied. “I was the one who got you to take off your scarf in the first place when I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Ivan sighed. “I mean I’m sorry for not telling you. Or more like I’m sorry for my reason to not tell you. I…” Ivan left out another sigh, closing his eyes. Alfred waited, not wanting to push him any further. He knew that Ivan didn’t open up to people much, and he was honoured that he was opening up to him. So he let Ivan take his time. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d judge me. I was scared you’d see it and get repulsed by it. Silly, I know, but… we were getting so close so fast and I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Alfred took a moment to gather up the right words before saying, “Ivan, I would never judge you, and I’m honestly quite honoured that you’ve opened up to me. I get why you don’t open up to many people--I don’t either. Once something happens,” Alfred took in a deep breath, pushing forward, “it’s hard to let go and heal. I’m not repulsed by your scar, Ivan. If anything, I’m proud of you for making it through whatever you went through to get it, okay?”

“Okay,” Ivan replied, visibly relaxing his muscles. They both smiled, and Alfred leaned in and gave Ivan a loving kiss.

“Let’s go down for breakfast, babe,” he said.

“Babe?” Ivan laughed, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, shut up,” Alfred groaned, throwing a pillow at his boyfriend’s face. He got out of the bed, then made his way to his bureau on the perpendicular wall. It was dark brown and sleek, just like his other furniture. The top half was like a closet which held all of his button ups, jackets, and nicer shirts in it. Arthur had snuck in a suit when Alfred wasn’t home one day, telling him later that “dressing like a popper isn’t in style”. Alfred knew it was his way of trying to care for him, but he didn’t really have a need for such a nice suit. He kept it anyway, since the thought behind it was nice.

Alfred looked through the shirts. He was much smaller than Ivan, but he did own quite a few items that were much too big for him, mostly button ups--it was a faze! One that the fashion driven members of his family refused to let go. Finding these shirts, he pulled them out, tossing them at Ivan who sat patiently on the bed, telling him to take his pick. Ivan chose the silk lilac one, of course, that had silver buttons. Then he picked a shirt for himself, closed the doors, and crouched down to the drawers to find some pants. Here was the problem; while he liked baggy shirts, he hated baggy pants. Nearly all of his jeans were skinny jeans, and they would be nowhere close to fitting Ivan’s thick thighs.

Ivan read his mind, saying, “I can just wear my jeans from yesterday, возлюбленный. I don’t mind.” Alfred turned to see him smiling, still without his scarf. He took a mental picture. It was a heart-throbbing sight--Ivan sitting there on his bed in nothing but his boxers, light sheets and dark blankets all around him, sunlight coming in from behind. Alfred smiled back.

“If you’re sure,” he replied. “Probably better that way, since all my jeans are skinny jeans.”

“О Боже,” Ivan gulped. Alfred bit his lip, knowing exactly what Ivan was dreading. “Are they tighter than the ones you wear at school?”

“Much tighter,” he said smirking. It took everything in him not to laugh when Ivan let out a long sigh. 

“You are both a blessing and a curse, возлюбленный.” 

Alfred laughed, then resumed his task of finding clothes for himself. He settled on a pair of tight, blue, ripped jeans; a black leather belt, with a silver buckle; a black and white striped knitted turtle-neck; and his alien socks. If there was anything he learned living with Francis, it was that dressing to impress was key to swoo-ing a guy. He’d been the witness to Arthur nearly fainting at the sight of some of Francis’s more provocative outfits. Of course, Alfred couldn’t just whip out the sexy stuff right away, but he could tease a little bit. He also kind of had to wear a turtle-neck, thanks to Ivan’s vampire abilities. 

Alfred gathered his things, setting them on his bed next to Ivan, and started to get dressed. Ivan followed his lead, getting off the bed to grab his black jeans. When Alfred was done, he turned around, watching Ivan pulled his pants over his gorgeous ass. Alfred let out a small noise--very unheroic. Ivan turned, which only made his ass look better. He made a face at Alfred, knowing exactly what Alfred had squeaked at. All Alfred could offer was a shrug, making Ivan laugh, so he went back to the nightstand, grabbing his glasses. He blinked, the world coming into focus.

He felt Ivan press against his back, making him shiver. Ivan grabbed his scarf, giving Alfred’s ear a slight nibble. “Don’t get me started,” he whispered to Ivan, trying his best to sound assertive, failing ever so slightly. Ivan chuckled, low, more like a rumble in his chest.  _ This guy’s gonna make me sin _ , Alfred thought to himself. It took all of his willpower to not turn around and kiss him. “It’s already half past ten,” he whispered to Ivan, like that would really mean anything. 

It worked, however. Ivan backed off, wrapping his scarf back around his neck. Alfred watched as the scar was covered back up, his last few thoughts about its origins being pushed to the back of his mind… for now. He looked so different with his scarf than he did without his scarf. Alfred decided than that he loved either version of Ivan.

Sharing one last kiss, the two boys left the bedroom and went to the stairs. From the top, Alfred saw a sight that made him groan. “Really you two? It’s half past ten, Jesus Christ,” Alfred said, exasperated, as he walked down the stairs, Ivan at his heels.

Arthur and Francis were standing in the living room, Arthur had his arms wrapped around Francis, biting his shoulder playfully, while Francis had his hands planted firmly on Arthur’s ass. They just couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, could they? They both turned their heads towards the stairs at the sound of Alfred’s voice, and he caught Arthur’s gaze linger on Ivan. There was something hidden in that analytical gaze, some sort of emotion swirling underneath, though Alfred had no clue what it was. He’d have to find out later.

“Oh, please,” Arthur replied, mocking Alfred’s tone. “Like you two didn’t do anything this morning.”

“I’m proud to prove you wrong and truthfully say we didn’t,” Alfred replied, sticking his tongue out a him, like the true child he was, flipping him off with both hands. Ivan said nothing. They were now at the bottom of the stairs.

“Can’t say the same thing for last night, though,” Arthur said, grinning. A deep blush plastered Alfred’s face as his eyes went wide, making Arthur roll his eyes dramatically. “Are you serious? Why else would you be wearing a turtleneck?” Before Alfred could make an effort to prove him wrong, that the turtle-neck was a fashion choice, Arthur added, “Also, you weren’t very quiet, and our room is next to your’s, genius.”

“God-fucking-dammit,” Alfred cursed. He was so sure no one had heard them, but of course Arthur had--he seemed to know everything that happened. He glanced toward the kitchen where the cheary voices of his parents wafted from. “Do you think…” his voice faded out, revealing his true nervousness for a split second.

“They didn’t hear you, Al,” Arthur said, surprising him with the softness of his voice. He hadn’t heard Arthur speak to him like that since he was a kid. He looked at his cousin, disbelief dripping from his face. “Trust me,” Alfred encouraged. “They don’t know, and they won’t know--unless you don’t give me and Mattie all the details later.”

Alfred glared at Arthur, then looked at Ivan, silently asking for permission, since it was Ivan’s story, too, not just Alfred’s. When Ivan gave him a nod, he turned back to the other couple. “You suck,” he stated, then went to the kitchen, Ivan, too, where a chorus of “good mornings” greeted them. They returned the greetings.

Matthew was already at the coffee machine, making a full pot. That was one thing about the Jones/Williams’ family--they loved their coffee. Especially the two sons. Alfred and Matthew would get headaches if they didn’t drink any for a day, add that to the crankiness, and there was definitely going to be a brawl. 

Mr. and Mrs. Jones were chatting at the stove, Mr. Jones flipping pancakes, while Mrs. Jones fried bacon and eggs. Gilbert was standing by Matthew, barely any space between them, making some sort of joke that Matthew was laughing at. Sometimes the fact that Gilbert was a graduate from their school weirded Alfred out, but, then again, he was only one year older than them, so he had gotten over it pretty fast.

“How did you two sleep last night?” Mrs. Jones asked.

“Like rocks,” Alfred replied smoothly. “School has wiped me out so much.”

“I can imagine,” Mr. Jones said. “You didn’t go too easy on yourself for your final year.” He put the last pancake on the stack and shut off his burner. “You about you, Ivan? School treating you well?”

“It’s a but stressful--my дедушка и бабушка, er, sorry, my  _ grandparents _ tend to expect high marks from my siblings and I.” It was obvious that keeping the sentence to strictly english was odd for Ivan, but the fact that he did it anyway made Alfred’s heart swell.

“You have siblings?” Mr. Jones asked.

“Да, I mean,  _ yes _ .” He glanced at Alfred, looking ever so slightly uncomfortable. “I have an older sister, Iryna. She’s in college. My younger sister Natalya is just starting high school this year.”

“Iryna and Natalya. Such beautiful names,” Mrs. Jones sang. “They sound so…” she snapped her fingers, looking for a word to describe them.

“Russian?” Ivan offered. They all laughed at that.

“I guess that works.” Mrs. Jones beamed at Ivan, clearly glad that he had a sense of humour.

“Where’s Francis gone off to?” Matthew asked. 

“Well, considering that Arthur is gone, too,” Alfred waved his hands to finish his sentence, though it was already clear as to what he was implying. 

“I detest that state for I, unlike some people,” they heard from the doorway, “have some class.” Alfred’s shoulders slumped.

“Grandma’s here, everyone,” he joked. Ivan giggled while Arthur went to tell him off.

“Let’s not start our morning off with fighting, especially while we have guests,” Francis intervened. Arthur and Alfred both huffed, and everyone took their places at the table. 

After that, dinner went smoothly. Ivan kept one hand on Alfred’s thigh--not the usual “let’s try to be sexy sneakily and see where it gets us” that teenagers do, but more of a need for reassurance. It was clear to Alfred that Ivan was not used to being in situations such as this, so he let Ivan keep his hand there. Anything to help him.

Ivan loosened up once he and Arthur started to talk about psychology, and what it was like to be in university for it. He even let his scarf fall a bit more. Alfred found it cute how nerdy Ivan was when he was talking about something he enjoyed.

Breakfast flew by smoothly, and everyone helped with clearing the table. Everyone dispersed, Ivan thanking the Jones parents and Matthew for the meal. He was winning them over easily, being polite and reserved as he was, with a sense of humor that snuck out here and there. They loved him already.

As Alfred and Ivan went back to his room, Ivan’s phone started to ring from his pocket, a soft jazz tune that suited him well. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His eyebrows knit together when he saw who it was. By then they were in Alfred’s room, Ivan standing before the bed, Alfred closing the door.

“Is everything okay?” Alfred asked him, walking up and putting a hand on his back. He looked at the screen, seeing a picture of his mom smiling back, the caller I.D. reading  **Мама** . 

“Yeah,” Ivan replied. He sounded distant, like he wasn’t fully there. “I’m… I’m just gonna get this.” He answered the call. “Здравствуйте?”

Alfred heard a female voice--most likely Mrs. Braginsky--on the other line. He went and sat on the bed, figuring it was rude to try and listen, even though the entire conversation was in another language.

“все хорошо, его родители добрые. Как и его брат.” Alfred heard more mumbled Russian over the line, and, judging from Ivan’s reaction, he didn’t like what he heard. Alfred immediately thought to the day before, when Ivan had come to his locker, scared of going home because of his grandparents. The shaking, his wide frightened eyes. Even now Ivan was pulling the scarf up past his nose. It seemed like Ivan was trying to protest against something, but kept being cut off. Instead, he gave a couple hums in response, tapping his foot against the ground like the day before, taking in deep breaths.

After a few more moments of silence on Ivan’s end, talking on the other, he said, “Хорошо, я посмотрю, позволят ли его родители. Я уверен, что они будут, но я все равно спрошу. Я позвоню тебе позже. Прощай.” He hung up the phone, collapsing in defeat beside Alfred.

“Is everything alright?” Alfred asked him, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Ivan shook his head, saying, “нет, возлюбленный, nothing is alright. My Мама wants me to come home to see my дедушка и бабушка. And that’s not all, she… she wants me to bring you, too.” There was tragedy in every word he said. His head hung low, phone loosely held in his hand.

“Well,” Alfred started. Hw wanted to make this better somehow. He thought for a moment. Ivan would have to go home eventually, and it would be rude to not see his grandparents when they’d come to visit. But… Alfred didn’t want him to go alone, not when he was so scared. Alfred knew what his plan of action was. He steeled himself up, saying, “I’ll come with you.”

Ivan gasped, turning to Alfred. “Are you sure? They can be quite rude--of course they don’t mean to be, but--”

“Ivan,” Alfred interrupted. He took one of his cold hands and held it in his lap, staring straight into his eyes as he spoke. “I’m coming. I’d be a shitty boyfriend if I refused to, and then your sisters would beat my sorry ass to a pulp.” He got up, pulling Ivan with him. “Besides, I don’t want you facing this alone.”

Ivan pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around the other boys waist. “Спасибо. Огромное спасибо,” he whispered, voice resonating with both relief and gratitude. 

“Anything for you, baby,” Alfred said, taking his face into his hands, going on his tiptoes to kiss his boyfriend. Ivan kissed him back.

“May I say one thing?” He asked when the two parted. 

“What?” Alfred replied.

“You might want to change your jeans,” Ivan said, biting his lower lip.

“Ah, so they’re that type of boomer.” Ivan laughed, nodding his head in agreement. Alfred did as Ivan suggested, right in front of him. One thing he learned from living with Francis; teasing your man throughout the day would lead to more passionate things later, mostly guaranteed. Plus, Alfred liked showing off to Ivan, he’d learned that quickly. He’d picked a pair of jet black pants that weren’t as tight as the previous pair.

After brushing their teeth (Alfred gave Ivan a spare toothbrush), and attempting to comb through his hair, the two boys went back downstairs. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were on the love-seat, about to pick a show when Alfred told them that they were going to Ivan’s house, and his grandparents wanted to meet him.

Mrs. Jones raised her eyebrows. “This soon into the relationship?” she asked.

“Mom!” Alfred shrieked. Her and Mr. Jones laughed as he groaned with despair, heat crawling up his face. He sighed. “I don’t know when I’ll be back but I’ll text you when I find out. See ya!”

He quickly put on his shoes, Ivan waiting patiently since he already had. They called out their last goodbyes before heading out.

The drive there was peaceful enough, though the two boys were far too distracted to really notice. They were both anxious for what was to come, panic thrumming around them, fueling their desire to just not go. To drive anywhere else. But they had to do this, and they had each other. They’d make it. They had each other.

They held hands the entire ride there.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
Yeah, I know I'm hella freaking late--I'm so sorry!! As I may have mentioned before, I'm going to counselling again, which has been taking a lot out of me. Between that and all my tests before the break, as well as X-mas to prepare for, I was very short on time. I know I said I'd write a post saying it I wouldn't make a deadline, but I didn't even have time to do that.  
I'm so sorry!!  
I added some d r a m a to this chapter to try and make up for it. Also, I'm working on another chapter for my spin-off series, which is nearly done.  
Again, I'm so sorry for the wait.   
Thanks, darlings <3

Alfred felt like he hadn’t gone through anything more stressful in his life. Whatever nervousness he had when Ivan had taken him to meet his parents and sisters was nothing compared to this. Alfred’s legs trembled, and his palms were getting all sweaty. At one point he had to let go of Ivan’s hand because he was so conscious about it. His stomach flipped, and his mind spun. Although he was ready to scream in terror over what he was about to do, Alfred held it together for the boy sitting next to him driving.

When they pulled up to the Braginsky’s home, Alfred did his best to not show Ivan how scared he was-- _ heroes don’t get scared _ , he told himself. The two boys looked at each other, car still on. “We could just leave,” Ivan said. “Pretend we never even drove over.”

“Heroes don’t run,” Alfred let out.  _ Fuck _ , he internally swore.  _ That sounded way less cool out loud then when I thought of it. _

Ivan took a deep breath. “You’re right,” he said. He looked at the house, checking all the windows to make sure no one was watching before he took Alfred by the back of the head and kissed him like it was the last time. Alfred wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and kissed him back.

They let go of each other and took off their seat belts, opened their door, and marched hand in hand toward their doom.

The first time Alfred had walked into the Braginsky’s home, it had been welcoming. Now, everything seemed on edge. It was like the house didn’t want him there, but he wasn’t letting Ivan go alone, so he took off his shoes and placed them beside Ivan’s.

Ivan let go of his hand before they went into the living room, which Alfred was a bit grateful off because his palms were getting sweaty again. Mr. and Mrs. Braginsky were the first to greet him, shaking his hand and pulling him into a hug. Then, Natalya and Iryna came crashing into the room, once again tackling Ivan with affection. Alfred was surprised when Iryna embraced him, too. Natalya didn’t, which he expected. However, she did greet him this time. He smiled at her, returning the greeting, then she frowned. He was too focused on making sure he didn’t throw up his breakfast to care.

When Mr. Braginsky said, “Alfred, this is Tatyana. She’s--”

“Ivan’s  бабушка,” a high, strong voice cut in. Alfred turned to where it came from, breath stopping when he saw who it was. An older woman walked toward him. She towered in height, the same height as Alfred, with a perfectly straight spine. She overflowed with an energy that warned people not to mess with her. Her white hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and there wasn’t a drop of makeup on her face. Alfred could see where Ivan’s family got the beauty from--the perfect eyebrows and plump lips with the high cheekbones made her look dangerous. Her white blouse and indigo pencil skirt were crease-less. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, trying to seem chill, even though he was sure the entire room could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He stuck out his hand, trying to seem polite. She raised her eyebrows, and right as he was about to put his hand back down, she reached out and shook his hand. Alfred would be lying if he said he expected that, even though it did nothing to calm him down.

What did calm him down was when Ivan came and stood beside him. Having the other boy there made him feel protected, like Ivan was the support he needed to face this woman standing in front of him.

“Likewise,” Tatyana replied. “Although, I do find it strange that I did not meet you before,” she added coldly, glaring Ivan down from the corner of her eye. It looked like she wanted an explanation, but not from Alfred. No, she was silently demanding one from Ivan, and Alfred knew he’d cave.

“Um, I wanted to wait until Мама и папа had met him, to see if they approved before I took it any further.” It was so obvious that Ivan was nervous talking to his grandmother, so much so that Alfred wanted to embrace him, console him and make sure he was okay. He didn’t however, because he knew that even holding hands with this woman’s grandson around her was a sure way to get him banned from the house. 

Ivan’s grandmother was silent for a moment, a moment that stretched on for what felt like forever. Eventually, she said, “you never start a sentence with “um”, Ivan.” His shoulders slumped, and he pulled his scarf up past his nose, taking in a deep, near silent breath. Alfred wanted to smack this woman across the face. Who did she think she was, talking to her grandson like that?! He felt a rage start to simmer within him, replacing the fear he once had of her, and he did his best to keep cool.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “My apologies, бабушка.” His eyes stayed pinned to the floor, head down.

“What do you mean by ''it”?'' she asked him, in a tone that a teacher would ask a question that was obvious. She knew the answer, she was just trying to make him admit it. Alfred’s distaste for this woman was growing by the second, and if she didn’t get off her high horse soon, Alfred was going to shove her off.

Alfred was glad when Mrs. Braginsky cut in. “Brunch is ready,” she chimed. “I hope you boys are hungry, because I made a lot of food. Let’s eat, shall we?” Tatyana must have realized that her time to drill into her grandson was over, and flowed over to the table, making a clear effort not to look at Alfred.

When everyone was seated at the table, Ivan was quick to engage his mother in conversation, most likely to avoid his grandmother grilling him again. “So, how was the tour today?” 

“It was good,” she replied, pilling some kasha into her bowl. “Dr.  Edelstein is quite a nice man, very collected.”

“Edelstein?” Alfred questioned. He caught Tatyana glare up his at the corner of his eye, and chose to ignore her. “As in Roderich  Edelstein?” 

“Why, yes,” she exclaimed. “How do you know him?”

“My cousin works at that hospital,” Alfred explained.

Mrs. Braginsky gave him an odd look. “Who is your cousin?” Then, a shadow of understanding came across her face. “It wouldn’t happen to be the front desk man, would it? Oh, what was his name? He came in right as I was leaving.” She tapped her temple, furrowing her brows.

“Arthur Kirkland?” I suggested. 

“Yes! That’s him! With the bushy eyebrows!” Alfred laughed at that quite hard, and the image of a certain angry brit came into mind, which made him laugh harder.

Once he’d gotten control of himself, he said, “Arthur is my cousin.”

Mrs. Braginsky was shocked. “But… you’re so different!”

“So I’ve been told,” he grinned, and shoved some of the delicious breakfast into his mouth. Man, this family knew how to cook!

At one point during brunch, Tatyana had started talking to Iryna and Natalya, yet not Ivan, who was sitting right beside his sisters. Alfred noticed how he kept looking over, wishfully, almost, and then back down dejected at his plate of food. It pissed Alfred off, so he did what he did best; he talked. Since he was sitting next to Ivan, it was easy, and he started chatting about pointless things from school--what they’re friends, Feliciano and his older brother Lovino, might be arguing about now, or maybe what their ancient teacher, Mr. Yao, might have in store for their next history lesson. Simple things, but they kept Ivan’s attention away from the glares Tatyana was blasting their way.

After brunch, Alfred helped bring the dishes to the dishwasher. When Mr. Braginsky asked Ivan to do something, Alfred helped along, never leaving his boyfriend’s side. There was a strong feeling coming from his gut that if he did, Ivan would no longer have protection, and Alfred would be damned if anything happened to the boy he’d fallen so heavily for.

Natalya and Iryna dispersed to their rooms, leaving the boys downstairs with the adults. And Tatyana. While they took seats in the living room, Ivan silently took Alfred by the hand and took him upstairs. It was obvious that he was scared, but his need to get away from his grandmother must have been greater than his fear of her. 

Ivan closed the door behind them, leading Alfred to the bed. Once there, Ivan wrapped himself around the smaller boy, burying his face into his collarbone. He was trembling. It through Alfred for a loop. He’d never seen Ivan like this--the closest he’d gotten was at school when Ivan had told him that his grandparents were coming. It had been bugging Alfred that Ivan had said grandparents, but he kept his mouth closed, focusing instead on comforting the boy in his arms. He rubbed Ivan’s back in slow circles, not knowing what to say that would make it better. Silence built up around them, but Alfred still couldn’t find anything to say.

It was Ivan that broke the veil. “Would you sing to me?” he asked, barely audible. For a moment, Alfred was unresponsive. Sing? He hadn’t sung in years with people present to hear him, not including singing along to the radio quietly. He was nervous--he wasn’t that good! But… he also wanted to make Ivan feel better. He looked so helpless in Alfred’s arms. 

With a sigh, Alfred caved. Quietly, he sang a lullaby Arthur had sung to him as a small child. One about a soldier going through their life. Alfred had loved it as a kid, since it showed that not even heroes are perfect, and made him realize it was okay to not be perfect, too. It had helped him through a lot, so he sang it softly to Ivan now, hoping it would help him, too.

Eventually, Ivan stopped shaking. By the second round of the chorus, he’d actually managed to relax a little. Alfred took these as positive signs, and continued to sing. Right in the middle of the third verse, a raspy voice called up the stairs. 

“Ivan!”

All at once, the tension in his muscles returned and the shaking started. Alfred could hear his breathing pick up the pace.  _ Fuck, _ he thought.  _ Right when I’d nearly calmed him down. _ To his surprise, Ivan got up, untangling himself from Alfred. Before Alfred could say a thing, Ivan murmured, “Stay here.” There was an eerie sort of calm to him, and a vibe that Alfred couldn’t quite explain. It wafted off of him in deep colours, Alfred could almost see it, and it didn’t look like Ivan.

Alfred wanted to protest, to tell Ivan that he didn’t have to face this alone and he would stand by him. He didn’t have a chance to say any of those things when Ivan quickly exited the room and went downstairs.

For a few moments, Alfred lay down alone in the large bed. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to tell himself that Ivan was fine, everything was fine, there was no need to worry everything is--

_ Fine Alfred, I promise. You’ll be okay. You’re fine, I won’t let anything happen to you ever again--I swear it. You’re fine, Alfred, you’re-- _

Alfred snapped himself out of the memory. He didn’t need that right then. He was already too nervous about Ivan. Curious, too. He shouldn’t go down and listen, but he could already hear the voices from Ivan’s bedroom, and Ivan would probably tell him once he came back up, anyway. There wouldn’t be much hurt from going downstairs, if there was any.

Ivan had left the door open, so it was easy for Alfred to slip out of the room soundlessly. He crept down the stairs, doing his best to remain unheard. He took his time. As he got closer to the living room, he heard the voice of Tatyana.

“--not to mention bringing him to your room, unsupervised. Are you  _ trying _ to be disrespectful?” She was less than pleased, and was doing no effort to hide it. Alfred stopped at the bottom of the stairs, pinning himself to the wall as to not be seen. 

“Нет, бабушка,” Ivan answered. Even from his post behind the wall, Alfred could hear how timid his boyfriend was. It broke his heart to hear such a kind person be so scared when they’d done nothing wrong. And to be that scared from their family was even worse--damn near unthinkable. No one deserved that! But Alfred wasn’t naive enough to know it didn’t happen. He’d learned at a young age how cruel and unjust the world could be.

“--do you agree with me, Ivan?” he heard Tatyana ask her grandson. What she was asking him to agree with, Alfred didn’t know. He must have zoned out, lost in his thoughts. What a great spy he’d make.

When Ivan didn’t answer her, Tatyana voice hardened to stone. She repeated her question. “Do you agree it was disgraceful to bring him here into our home, Ivan? Yes, or no!” Alfred felt his stomach do a flip, and not the same kind he got when Ivan kissed him. No, what he felt now was full of dread, a pit forming in his stomach. There was no way Ivan would agree, everything would be fine--

“да, бабушка,” Ivan said. Even though his voice seethed with despair and regret, it did nothing to make Alfred think he didn’t mean it. He’d heard those words enough times to know their meaning, and was appalled that Ivan would ever say it. How? How could Ivan agree with her?! After everything he’d told Alfred, after all the wonderful time they’d shared… after last night…

Alfred just couldn’t believe it. He’d let Ivan in, let him see a side of him no one had gotten to see, yet it hadn’t been enough. Alfred wasn’t good enough. He was a fool to even think so. His heart crumpled to dust, and his eyes burned with oncoming tears. Alfred’s entire body was covered in sweat, he felt bile rise in his throat, and he had to put his hand over his mouth to hold back a sob.

He couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t look at Ivan, or Tatyana, or any of their family. He needed out. Lucky for him, the door was right across the entryway. He sprinted toward it, nearly ripping it off its hinges in his haste to escape. Knowing his cover was blown, he didn’t bother to be quite with the door, slamming it shut behind him. Now everyone would know he heard the conversation. He hoped Ivan did, and he hoped it made him feel like shit, even though Alfred still felt guilty for it.

Without stopping, Alfred ran. Down the steps and onto the sidewalk. He heard a female voice, probably Mrs. Braginsky, call for him to come back, but he didn’t. He kept running like his life depended on it. He started talking random turns onto random streets until he was thoroughly lost. Hopefully that would throw anyone following him off of his track. Even then Alfred didn’t stop running--not until his arms went numb and his stomach cramped. He pushed through it, only stopping when his legs had turned to jello and the burning of his lungs was too much to bare.

He sat down on the curb, leaning against a street sign. His entire body was shaking, but he didn’t have any way to stop it. No one to hold him and sing to him like he had done for Ivan.  _ Why am I not enough? _ Someone, he managed to keep himself together, probably shock.

Alfred reached into his pocket for his phone. He shouldn’t stay out on the street, and he needed to get home. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and just sleep this nightmare away. He should call someone, but who? Mattie was with Gilbert, and he didn’t want to be a pest; Arthur was probably still at work, and he needed the money for school. That left one option. Alfred pressed the number into his phone. They answered on the third ring.

“Allo?” 

Alfred took a deep breath. “Hey, uhh, would you mind coming to pick me up? I’m on--” he looked up at the sign--“Cherry Street,” he read. 

“Of course, mon petit. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there soon.” Alfred would have to be deaf to not hear the concern in their voice, but he didn’t do anything to console them. He merely thanked them and hung up, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

Francis showed up about 30 minutes later, 30 minutes that had flown by Alfred, who was still sitting stunned on the street corner. Francis had parked the car right next to him and jump out, running over to Alfred. 

“Qu'est-il arrivé?” he exclaimed, dropping beside Alfred and pulling him into a warm embrace. Alfred hadn’t noticed how cold he’d gotten. “Oh mon Dieu, Alfred, where are your shoes?” Alfred realized, in his haste to get out of the house, he’d forgotten his shoes.

When Alfred didn’t answer, Francis pulled him up and brought him to the car. Alfred let himself be carried over. H felt like he had no strength left. Without a word, Francis started the car back up and followed the GPS home.

How would Francis explain this to Arthur?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
IMPORTANT MESSAGE UP AHEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm sorry to say this, but I will not be able to post as often as I was. I AM SORRY!! I really wish I could, and I will do my best to not make you guys wait too long for chapters, but I can't put myself to posting on a schedule for a while.

THIS IS NOT FOREVER! Once the school year is over, I will be posting every two weeks again (Yes, I do intend of keeping this fic going for that long). 

My reason for this; my other writing has to be moved to the front of my focus. I'm down a credit in school, and I'm going to do an extra curricular so I can make up for it. However, that extra curricular involves a lot of writing. So, I have to put my focus on that instead of this fic.

I don't want to do this, and I'm sorry, but it has to be done :( I wanted to give you all a heads up so no thinks I, like, died, or something.

Thanks, darlings <3


	11. The Real Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> So I've been gone for a while, and I'm very sorry about that. HOWEVER my other project has been going pretty well so I took a break and wrote a full chapter for you guys!  
THIS IS NOT NEAR THE END!! I still have a main plot line I'm going to follow that relates more to the summary, I promise.  
Anywayyyyyyy, enjoy!  
Thanks, darlings <3

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s what Alfred felt. When Francis had gotten him home, after a brief phone-call with Arthur on the way there, his older cousin had flocked him, trying to get him to explain what was wrong. But he just… couldn’t. Alfred had pushed past the Brit, slugging up to his room. When he opened his door, he moved to go to his bed. 

However, he just stood there with the door open, hand still on the doorknob, staring at his bed. The previous night’s memories hit him like a subway. There had been so much trust, so much love. What had gone wrong? Why did Ivan suddenly feel like he wasn’t good enough?

Part of his head tried to tell him what was true--that Ivan only agreed because it was his grandmother, and he wanted to get their talk over with, to please her. But the larger part of Alfred’s conscious, the broken, wrecked part of him, wouldn’t believe it. It would only hurt more when he found it to be false.

Who was he kidding anyway? Ivan--beautiful, smart, talented Ivan--liking him? Ridiculous. Alfred should have seen it coming from the moment he kissed him. No, from when he got into his car. Even before that, when Ivan came up to him in the hallway. It was all a sick joke, some terrible scheme Ivan had come up with to finally take down his school-long enemy. And it worked. He hated to admit it, but Ivan got to him. He had won.

No, Alfred couldn’t get back into his bed. Not when he knew the sheets would smell of the Russian his heart longed for. There was no need for more hurt. Instead, he closed the door, dragging himself to his brother’s room. Letting himself in, he beelined it for the bed.

He flopped down on his side, not bothering to remove his jeans and crawl under the covers. Tears burned his eyes and tracked his face, never ending. His body trembled with every gasping breath. He held himself so hard he made his own prints into his arms. 

After God knows how long, he fell asleep on his brother’s bed, waking up after a while, but not getting out. Hours later, Matthew came in, pausing when he saw Alfred’s heap of a being curled on his covers. Slowly, he approached him, whispering softly, “Alfred?” After not getting a response, he tried a little louder. “Alfred.”

Alfred’s response was a tiny shift, barely noticed by Matthew. “What’s going on? Arthur was freaking when I got in, and Francis won’t tell me anything.” He sat on the bed next to Alfred, making a point not to touch him. He knew by now that it wouldn’t help. “Al, talk to me, please?”

“Ivan,” was all Alfred could get out before falling apart, wracking out loud sobs and throwing himself into his brother’s arms. And just like that, Matthew was a different person--the timid, shy boy was gone, replaced with strong arms wrapping around the American, a sense of calm encasing them.

“It’s alright, Al. Just breath. In, and  _ out _ .”

Between shaky breaths, Alfred got the story out. Matthew stayed silent through it all, stoic as he held the mess in his arms. When he was done, his brother said nothing for a few minutes. When he did, Alfred thought he’d freak.

“He’s in for it,” Matthew said. When Alfred lifted himself off of him to look in his eyes, all he saw was violet flames. He’d rarely seen Matthew like this, and when someone did,  _ run. _

“Matty, no,” Alfred whispered. 

“Yes, Al, yes!” he yelled. Alfred flinched. Matthew didn’t stop there. “That was an asshole move, it doesn’t matter why he did it. You don't say shit like that about people you care for, and he obviously cares for you!” Alfred let out a  _ hmph _ . “Okay, pull yourself together, and make up your damn mind.”

“Excuse you?” Alfred asked, flabbergasted. Here he was, crying on his brother’s bed, and said brother was being short with him?

“Excused. Alfred, listen to yourself. Hell,  _ look  _ at yourself. This isn’t the Alfred F. Jones I know. This isn’t even Alfred F. Jones--this is a whiny little bitch who won’t make up his damn mind about if he doesn’t like a hoe or not. Now, does that sound like you, Al?”

“No,” he begrudgingly agreed. He knew what Matthew was doing, striking up his feeling, starting with shock, than rage, then settling back down to just  _ feeling _ . He did this when he knew Alfred was either going numb or stuck on one negative emotion, then going numb--which happened more than one would think. And, fuck, if it didn’t work every time.

“So, what are you going to do? Wallow here in self-pity and misunderstanding, or go talk to Ivan and sort this shit out?” 

Alfred felt like he’d puke at the meer idea. “N-no way! I am  _ not  _ ready to speak to…” Hell, he couldn’t even say his name. It caught in his throat, bringing more tears to his eyes. Fuck.

Matthew gaze softened, turning back into the caring pools Alfred felt much more comfortable dipping into. “Let’s focus on something else for a bit, alright?” Alfred couldn’t answer, instead nodding his head. His brother gave him a smile, but it was strained. He was trying though, so Alfred decided he’d try too. 

Matthew took him by the sleeve and pulled him out of bed. The first thing Alfred noticed when he got up was the physical pain he was in. His head was splitting, and his legs were shaking. He felt bile rising in the back of his throat. The shorter boy clung to his twin, slightly embarrassed that he had to use the other for support.

The two brothers made their way downstairs, and if Alfred hadn’t already felt sick, he surely did now. And he also felt absolutely terrible and guilty. Why? Because Arthur was being held on the couch by Francis, which was normal. What wasn’t normal, however, was that Arthur was shaking, rambling, and holding his head in his hands. He radiated concern and anger. Although Francis was trying, Alfred could tell Arthur wasn’t getting any better. Then again, chances were Francis was also the reason Arthur hadn’t barged in on Alfred demanding answers.

Matthew let out a slight cough, getting the attention of the two men. Immediately Arthur concealed himself, hidden behind the masks everyone knew he wore but could never get off. As he approached Alfred, the heartbroken boy did his best to stand on his own. He couldn’t, however, meet Arthur in the eyes--a big indicator that he was not alright. 

When Arthur stayed silent for a few minutes, Alfred started to get nervous. Was he going to be scolded for making Arthur leave work, or for bothering Francis? Both? Probably.

Arthur surprised him by saying, “grab some shoes. We’re going out to eat, and you’re picking the spot.” When Alfred snapped up his gaze, he was met with a warm smile and kind eyes. He tried to manage a smile.

“Thanks, dude. I was expecting to get grilled.” 

“Oh, you will, but we can save that for later.” 

Alfred let out a dramatic sigh. To his surprise, he didn’t feel as bad anymore. In fact, he felt rather good. Like he’d been hit by a train, yes, and worse, but at that moment he had his brother holding him up, his cousin spoiling him, and his cousin’s fiance looking out for him. He wasn’t alone.

  
  
  


Of course, Alfred had chosen McDonald’s. And, of course, he ate a fuck ton. But he wasn’t doing it because he was hungry, he was doing it to please his family, make it seem like everything was okay. He hated showing weakness--he wanted to be a hero, for fuck’s sake! He couldn’t be weak. And if eating a few burgers and fries was what made his family happy, he’d do it, even when he didn’t want to.

Arthur watched him for most of the time, probably doing an evaluation/analysis. Matthew and Francis did their best to lighten the mood, telling dumb jokes and being silly--Francis more than Matthew, but he tried. The four of them stayed for roughly two hours, eating slowly and mostly talking. Alfred waited to be grilled by Arthur, but his older cousin had yet to speak of the subject, and Francis pointedly avoided mentioning anything close, as did Matthew. Not once was Gilbert mentioned, though the Canadian had just seen him that day.

It was late afternoon/early evening by the time they left, getting back into Francis’ car to head back home. Arthur picked the music, once again playing The 1975, singing along while holding hands with Francis. It was common knowledge that Arthur was insecure about his singing--he hated when people listened to him, or commented on it. However, he had some exceptions, which were Francis, since he knew his fiance wouldn’t judge him; Matthew, since they felt the same way; and Alfred, since Arthur knew it always calmed him down. It’s how he used to get Alfred back to sleep after he’d have a nightmare as a kid. In a situation like this, Alfred needed all the calming he could get. 

Also, Arthur could really fucking sing. Normally it was slow ballads, but there were times when Arthur and Alfred would go for drives before Alfred had gotten his license, and they’d blast metal, Arthur doing all the screamo parts. He could change his voice to sound like nearly any male singer, but his natural singing voice was Alfred’s favourite. He always portrayed the message of the music, and sold it to his audience. Alfred thought it was silly how insecure Arthur was about it, but, hey, everyone has their insecurities.

The car ride was all too short, but Alfred didn’t have the energy to ask to keep driving. He could feel himself starting to slip, all of his happiness zapped out of him. All he wanted was to not be in the present, he wanted to go back in time, or escape reality--be anywhere but the present.

Half of the pain hadn’t even hit him yet--he ran from it when he ran from Ivan’s house. Ivan… No! No, he was not crying now! Not in the car where he was practically surrounded by people. He hurriedly undid his seatbelt, making a point not to rush out of the car. He was fine, nothing was wrong, everything was  _ fine _ .

He thanked Arthur for the food, Francis for driving, and Matthew for getting him out of bed in the first place. With that, he went up to his room, once again stopping at the door. This couldn’t keep happening, but he still wasn’t ready to go in. So, he went to Matthew’s room, again. Knocking this time, he waited for Matthew to let him in, and immediately flopped on the bed. He and his brother fell into a semi-comfortable silence.

He felt a buzz go off in his back pocket. He’d forgotten all about his phone, not checking it this entire time. Pretty much when numb to it. He pulled it out, only to see he had tons of missed calls and texts from all social media forms from Ivan. even a voicemail. He didn’t want to deal with it, but he also wanted to see what they said. Damn his curiosity!

“Mattie,” he whispered. Why did he whisper? This wasn’t some secret. But… he had to handle this delicately, and he was so fragile that any loud noise felt like it could break him.

“Yeah?” his brother answered, even softer. That was one of the things Alfred loved about his brother, no matter how quiet Alfred was, Matthew would be quieter. He was a constant chill zone Alfred could access when he needed.

“C’mere.” Matthew got up from his desk where he was writing and sat on the bed beside his brother. Alfred showed him his phone screen. “What do I do?” he asked, definitely going to start crying again. He swallowed thickly.

“You wanna see what they say?” Matthew asked. Alfred nodded. Matthew scooted closer, laying down beside him. “Let’s look, then.”

With shaking hands, Alfred unlocked his phone. Breathing deeply, just like Arthur had taught him to do when he was nervous or scared, he started with the social media messages. They all spanned from “I’m sorry” and “I really didn’t mean it”. Short, so they were probably sent later on. Alfred waited a little longer, making sure Matthew read all the messages, too.

Then they opened the texts. They were longer, some paragraph length. Probably sent before the social media messages, then. Still, they spoke about how sorry Ivan was, and how he felt really bad over what he’d said. Alfred could feel tears prickle in his eyes. He hated that Ivan was hurting, and he hated himself for caring. Ivan had hurt him, dammit! But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stay mad at him. He closed his texts.

There was one thing left; the voicemail. Alfred didn’t know if he could do it. His finger hovered over the screen. It was Matthew that tapped it, and Alfred didn’t stop him. Hearing Ivan’s voice… it hurt, to say the least. Alfred started to shake, and Matthew wrapped his arms around his brother as he cried. 

_ “Hey, Alfred. It’s Ivan, again. I… I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better, but I really wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for it, and I just… I shouldn’t have said what I said. In all honesty, I was scared. When I came out… my  _ _ дедушка и бабушка was not good about it. They nearly shunned me from the family. It hurt a lot. Ever since then I’ve been trying to make it up to them. Agreeing with everything they said, even when I thought it was bullshit. Doing the best I can in everything I do, grades, sports. Overworking my mind and body to please them. And I hate myself for it. I wish I wouldn’t be this way, but I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s reflex now. Instinct.” _

Alfred could hear how shaky his breath was, doing his best to control his own breathing. Ivan sounded like a fragile kid. Vague, foggy memories of elementary Ivan came to his mind; always hiding behind his scarf. He probably did while he recorded the voicemail. It would explain why his voice sounded slightly muffled.

_ “In school, I saw how carefree you were. You didn’t give a damn what people thought about you, and I wanted so badly to be like that, too. And that’s why I pretended to hate you for all those years. I was jealous. I wanted to not give a damn, too, but I was too scared. When we started to really hang out, I was able to see that you weren’t always like that, and it only made me want you more. It helped me to see that the way I was, the way I am, is natural and okay. _

_ “What wasn’t okay was me playing it out on you. I should have stood up for you. I shouldn’t have just gone with what she said, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for losing you, Alfred.” _

Ivan’s voice was breaking more and more, just like Alfred’s heart. However, it was no longer for the things Ivan had agreed with, it was what he was saying now. He felt that warm flutter slowly creep back into his stomach. His tears were slowly going from being tears of despair to tears of happiness. He could tell his brother beside him was feeling the emotion, too. The fire that had been underlying every moment was dying off, the tense shoulder muscles relaxing.

_ “You opened my eyes and helped me become stronger. You saved me, Alfred. You told me you wanted to be a cop to help people, to be a hero--” _

At this point, Alfred was blushing. Of course, his brother already knew this, but it was still embarrassing. Matthew snickered beside him, not helping at all.

_ “--but you didn’t know you were already a hero, Alfred. You saved me. I wasn’t going to ever tell you this, but the day I asked you if you wanted to go to the store with me, I asked because… I felt like I had nothing left to lose. I… I can’t say it. I’m sorry, Alfred. Not over the phone, I can’t.” _

Soft sobs were heard from the other end of the line. Alfred and Matthew looked at each other. Ivan Braginsky was crying?! He had a reputation for never crying--looking sad, sure, but never shedding a tear. Honestly, it was a surprise that he could.

After a deep breath from recorded-Ivan, he continued.

_ “I’m rambling, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry for all of this. It’s my fault and you have every right to be mad at me, hate me, never want to see my face again. Yeah, you definitely hate me. And you’ll probably hate me even more for saying this, but… I miss you. I miss the feeling of holding you, and joking around. I miss the way you smell, and how your voice sounds. I miss falling asleep beside you and waking up to you. We lasted a mere couple of days, but it feels like so much longer. I wanted--no, I want it to be so much longer. But I have no right to ask for that after what I did.  _

_ “I have one last thing to get off my chest. Feel free to punch me in the face next time you see me for this, but… Я люблю тебя. I love you, Alfred. So much. I’m sorry.” _

The dial tone started, and Alfred nearly threw his phone. He bolted upright. “That fucker!” he yelled. He couldn’t tell if he was mad, or sad, or happy. Ivan had fucked up big time, but he’d also poured his heart out to him, and it was hard to stay mad after that. And wouldn’t Alfred, or anyone for that matter, done the same in that situation?

“What are you going to do?” Matthew asked him. Right. Alfred had to make the next move. He really wished he’d listened to this earlier--hell! He wished he’d stayed to hear Ivan’s explanation! But now… now he had to fix this. 

“I’m going to go see Ivan.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
So it's been a while, I know. I've been ridiculously busy lately--so much has happened in my life!  
Also, I'm very sorry this chapter is so short, it just felt right to end it where I did. I will (obviously) try to put up a new one as soon as I can.  
Also, I hope that everyone is doing alright amid this COVID-19 epidemic. It definitely is scary, but we can all pull through it together is we SELF ISOLATE and follow the guidelines that have been continuously put out for us.  
Thanks, darlings <3

Alfred raced down the stairs, feet and blood pounding, nearly falling on his face. Arthur and Francis shot up from the couch. 

“Where are you going?” Arthur exclaimed, making his way towards his younger cousin. “Did something else happen--”

“I messed up,” Alfred answered, finally pausing his frantic movements to find his shoes, realizing he didn’t have them. “I misunderstood the situation and acted rashly. Again.” He let out a large sigh. “I have to fix this.”

Alfred and Arthur stared each other down, Alfred knowing full well that the Brit was analysing him again, making sure he was good to go. After a long, tense pause, Arthur went to the closet, opening it and taking out a pair of shoes. Simple black and white checker print pull-ons.

“You need shoes to drive,” he said, looking up at Alfred. “Just… be careful, and if anything happens, call me. I won’t tell.”

Alfred surprised them both by pulling Arthur into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” he mumbled into his cousin’s shoulder. Letting go of his stunned cousin, Alfred slipped the shoes on, grabbing his keys off of the hook. He called out one more thank you as he sprinted out the door, slamming it shut behind him and bucking ass to his car.

Even in the slow creeping evening, he managed to remember the way to Ivan’s house, pulling right up into the driveway. He wasted no time, hopping out of the car, practically ripping his keys out of the ignition. 

He walked up and knocked on the door. Waited. Eventually, it was opened by none other than Natalya. She blocked the doorway, hostile energy rippling off of her. “What do you want?”

“Where’s Ivan?” Alfred asked, a strange sense of calm washing over him. “I need to speak to him.  _ Now _ .”

“Why should I let you? He’s been a mess since you stormed out of here, and I--”

“Natalya,” a gruff voice called from behind her. “Let him in.”

With a huff, and once last glare at Alfred, Natalya moved out of the way, opening the door with just enough room for Alfred to be able to walk through. Ivan was standing there, still wearing Alfred’s shirt, his scarf all the way up past his nose. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets.

Before Alfred could even say a word, Ivan spoke in that same low tone. “Let’s take this upstairs, shall we?” It wasn’t a question, and Alfred knew that before Ivan turned and walked up the stairs. He had no choice but to follow.

Ivan shut his bedroom door behind Alfred. Alfred stood by the window, the room so tense it could be cut with a knife. “I listened to your voicemail,” he eventually said. Before Ivan could reply, Alfred continued, “What was the part? The one you wouldn’t say?” He was met with only silence, and from that he could feel his anger start to boil again. He waited, closing his eyes to hold back the tears forming. 

“It… it may be easier to show you,” Ivan whispered. When Alfred turned, he was at his side, raising his shirt, pulling it over his head. Alfred gasped--scars ran all over his abdomen; some short, others long. They were dark against his ivory skin. Alfred could feel the hair on his arms start to rise. He tore his eyes away, instead studying Ivan’s face. Pain contorted his features, and any remaining anger Alfred had held dispersed.

“Are those…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, realization hitting him in the chest, knocking all of the air out of his lungs. “You… you were gonna…”

“I had nothing left to lose,” Ivan whispered, finally meeting Alfred’s gaze. Both of them were crying, no longer able to hold back tears. 

Alfred couldn’t help it--he rushed to Ivan, wrapping his arms around him and stuffing his face into the crook of Ivan’s neck. “Never,” he sobbed, “never leave me, please. I c-can’t lose you like that.”

“I won’t, дорогой. I promise you.” Ivan kissed the shorter boy’s forehead, causing a faint smile to cross his face.

“I forgive you, by the way. For earlier. I should’ve given you a chance to explain yourself.”

“It’s okay, дорогой. I shouldn’t have agreed anyway--I knew it was wrong. I don’t know how I can make it up to you.” Once again, his voice was breaking and his breath was shaky.

Alfred bit his lip before taking Ivan’s face in his hands, pulling the scarf down so he could kiss the taller boy. “You don’t have to, baby,” he whispered against his lips. “I understand what it means to be scared.” Ivan kissed him again, and finally,  _ finally _ , Alfred felt whole again. Like the torns pieces of his heart were being mended and sewn back together. They kept kissing, finding solace in the act, comfort in the silence. “Hey, Ivan?” Alfred said, breaking away for a moment.

“What is it, дорогой?” Ivan asked, running a cold hand gently through Alfred’s hair.

“I love you, too.”

Ivan picked up Alfred, carrying him to the bed. He dropped him down gently before hovering over him, capturing his mouth in another kiss. Alfred kissed back with everything he had, hands drawing up Ivan’s back and settling in his hair.

Their kisses turned more aggressive. Ivan let one hand roam over Alfred’s abs. It made him shiver, and not because Ivan’s hands were cold. “Блядь, you’re so hot,” Ivan whispered gruffly in his ear, biting it lightly, making Alfred gasp. “How about I add to those markings I made last night. You seemed to enjoy it.”

Alfred could trust his voice, so instead of answering he lifted himself up enough to pull his shirt off, as well as taking off his glasses. Ivan watched, hunger gleaming in his eyes, intoxicating Alfred. Ivan wasted no time getting to work, sucking and biting Alfred’s chest, who did his best not to out right moan. 

They were going to be going like this for a while.

  
  


Once they’d gotten the horniness out of their systems, they laid in Ivan’s bed, curled up around each other. Alfred had put his shirt back on, just in case someone walked in. Ivan ran a hand through his hair over and over, lulling Alfred into a daze. He let out a content sigh. A perfect moment.

A knock at the door broke the trance, and Ivan let out a low groan of annoyance. “ Да?” He called, sitting up and adjusting his scarf.

Mrs. Branginski poked her head into the room. “Hey, boys. I just wanted to make sure everything was… sorted out.” her gaze lingered on Alfred, who then sat up.

“Everything is alright,” he smiled, making her visibly relax. “We talked it out.”

“Well, I’m glad. I really am sorry, I didn’t think she would go that far.” Mrs. Braginski sighed. “My mother is not the most open-minded person.” she gave a sharp look at Ivan as she said, “You missed quite the showdown when you left. I thought Ivan was going to tear her head off.”

“Oh?” Alfred turned to look at Ivan quizzically. “What would you mean by that?”

“He was like a polar bear, roaring and all.” Her gaze changed, shifted to being softer. “I understand why--it;s hard to not be protective over your partner.”

Ivan’s eyes widened like saucers, his face going all pink--nothing at all like the confident, sexy Ivan that Alfred knew he could be. He stammered, “He’s not--we’re not--it--what-- _ how did you know?! _ ” Alfred had to hold back laughing at his astonishment.

“I’m your mother,” she deadpanned, before leaving, closing the door behind her.

  
  


It was another few hours until Alfred left. He drove alone in the dark, wishing terribly that Ivan was by his side. Despite that, he was still happy. He was glad to know everything was fixed, and couldn’t wait to tell Matthew. He smiled all the way home.

When he got inside, he was met with both of his parents sitting on the couch. Internally, he swore. Of course they knew--Francis probably called them after he called Arthur. Though he didn’t remember a second phone call, it very well could have happened. He hadn’t exactly been paying attention.

His father said, “Welcome back, Alfred. You were gone quite a while.” Smiling. His parents were smiling. Maybe nothing was wrong and he had no reason to panic.

“I actually came back for a while, then left again,” Alfred replied, grinning like nothing had been wrong. 

“Oh, alright. Did you eat while you were gone?” his father asked. 

Alfred called a “yep” over his shoulder, half running up the stairs to his brother’s room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm back!  
I know I haven't posted in a loonngggg time. Isolation has made me forget the concept of time, honestly.  
Also, I hope everyone is holding up well against these absolute shit times. I know it's hard, but we can pull through this!  
I wanted to say thank you for the all support I've been getting from you guys, my readers. It means so much to me when you comment and click the kudos button. It warms my heart so much, and I am so grateful that you enjoy what I post.  
Thanks, darlings! <3

All Sunday Alfred SnapChatted Ivan. He just couldn’t stop. He got to see his boyfriend’s face like he was actually there, which made him stupidly happy. The only times he stopped were when he ate dinner and when he had to use the bathroom, and that was merely out of decency (and Arthur’s glaring at the table).

He drove to school that Monday--not using his phone, because safety--though him driving was out of the norm. His parents picked up on it, and when they asked, he claimed he felt he didn’t practice enough and had no desire to get rusty. A big fat lie, in other words, because he intended to use his car for… other purposes. 

He was jittery all through his first class, and was straight up staring at Ivan from his biology classroom window. When the bell rang, he sprinted out of the door, not stopping until he got to his locker. Shoving his bag away, he closed his locker, turning away.

But a hand gripped him harshly by the shoulder, smashing his back against the locker. The rattles pounded down the noisy hallway, causing everyone to go quiet and stare. Alfred felt pain shoot down his spine--no doubt he got a lock to the spine.

He looked up to see who shoved him, only to be met with a fist to the face. “What the fuck?” he spat, stumbling.

“Saw you drive off with Braginski yesterday, the hell was that about?” a voice barked loudly.

“I can’t tell what’s more concerning; the fact that you care so much, or that you even noticed I left,” Alfred laughed, making direct eye contact with his assailant and adjusting his glasses. He vaguely recognized him as a member of the rugby team, though he couldn’t remember his name. 

“As far as I knew, you hated each other. So spit it out--the hell is going on?!” The pure anger rattling off of this stranger astounded Alfred. He barely knew the guy--couldn’t even remember his name--yet he’d had the  _ audacity _ to punch Alfred in the face! And hard to, which made sense since he was in rugby.

“Again, don’t see why you’re so concerned,” Alfred smirked, doing his best to look unprovoked even though his mind was racing. How could he get out of this? Despite what most people believed, he didn’t actually like to fight. Not physically, anyway, not unless he had a really good reason. So, any reason but himself.

Before the original attacker could press any further, one of his coonies, who Alfred had barely noticed was there on the sidelines, called out, “fucking shirtlifter!”

Alfred stopped dead in his tracks, appalled.  _ Shirtlifter. _ Chills ran over him, he felt saliva flood into his mouth while his stomach flipped, telltale signs he was going to puke.  _ Shirtlifter. _ His heart lodged into his throat, preventing him from breathing more than shallow, pathetic breaths.  _ Shirtlifter.  _ Shame covered him, making his smiling facade falter and drop completely.  _ Shirtlifter _ \--

There was commotion he almost missed before he snapped out of his shocked daze. Looking up, he saw a tall, big, blonde yelling at the croony, telling him to back off, or something. Alfred could barely hear past the blood roaring in his ears. Then the newcomer glared so intensely at the cronies that they turned and fled down the hall, running as fast as they could. The usual commotion of the hallways started up again like nothing had happened, show over.

There were gentle hands touching Alfred’s shoulder. He turned his head so fast his glasses nearly flew off, and he almost clonked heads with a boy a few inches shorter than himself. “Are you alright?” the boy asked, brows furrowing in concern. The kindness took Alfred off guard.

“Y-yeah,” Alfred said, letting out a shaky breath. He looked into the boy’s eyes, trying to calm himself with the familiarity of them. “Do you think my back will be okay?” he joked, although his back was still aching slightly.

“Nope!” the boy said cheerly, like Alfred had just told him it was perfect beach weather. His charming Italian accent made everything he said sound like a song. Feliciano smiled, and Alfred smiled back at his friend.

“The hell was that about?” A much less soft voice barked, the thick german accent making it sound even more aggressive. Alfred looked up to only realize he had to look  _ up _ to make eye contact with the person who’d attacked his attacker.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Alfred replied, totally not intimidated by this guy. “Thanks for the save, though. I owe you one.” He held out his hand, which the much larger boy--man--shook briefly. “I’m Alfred.”

“Ludwig Beilshmidt.” Oh, that’s where Alfred knew that face from. He was captain of the football team. Of course, how could Alfred have forgotten? He’d been the guy who made the school talk for weeks when he got in a teammate’s face for saying homophobic slurs during practice, a sad normal for the football jocks. Then rumors went around that he’d gotten a boyfriend, who Alfred could only assume was the brunette hovering by his shoulder. But there was something else… 

“Oh, right--you’re Gilbert’s younger brother!” Alfred smiled, easing up now that he had some common ground with Ludwig. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

“Ah, you’re Matthew’s twin. I remember now.” Ludwig had the ghost of a smile on his lips when he said, “Gilbert never shuts up about him or anything to do with him. I believe he mentioned you once or twice” Alfred laughed, not surprised to know that Matthew had gotten Gilbert so wrapped around his finger and not even aware of it. Or was he? Who knew? It was Mattie, after all.

Right as Alfred was about to make an excuse to go, pounding footsteps and a voice calling out made him turn around, beaming. “Al!”

“Hey,” he replied as Ivan stopped in front of him.

“I saw what happened--it’s already been posted on the school instagram page--are you okay? You’re bruising already!” Ivan rushed out, gently stroking Alfred’s now sore cheek and looking right into his eyes, causing his heart to do flutter-kicks. 

“I’m okay. These guys showed up before anything really bad could happen.” When Ivan made a face of disbelief, Alfred sighed. “I’m okay, really.”

“Whatever you say,  дорогой,” Ivan said, pulling Alfred into his chest and wrapping an arm around him. Guess they weren’t bothering with keeping their relationship status on the low. “Thanks for helping him out of that, Beilshmidt.”

“You’re welcome, Braginski.” With that, Feli and Ludwig left, hands intertwined and a slight blush on Ludwig’s face while Feli started going on about something. It was adorable, honestly, and Alfred hoped that one day he and Ivan could be like that.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you, дорогой,” Ivan mumbled into his scarf. 

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. People are stupid.” He pulled down Ivan’s scarf and took his face in his hands. Ignoring his fellow students around him, he kissed Ivan right there in the hallway. Ivan kissed back, wrapping both arms around Alfred’s waist. There were some claps and hollars from others, making Alfred grin against Ivan’s mouth. They broke apart, both smiling.

“Wanna go to the store?” Alfred asked, wriggling his eyebrows at Ivan.

His boyfriend giggled before saying, “Yes.” Their hands intertwined automatically, and together they left the building.

  
  


The two had ended up spending the free period together, again. However, they didn’t end up doing much sexy stuff like Alfred had originally planned. After the hallway incident, his sex drive was, well, not as active as usual. Ivan seemed to pick up on this, but he didn’t say anything, probably knowing that it would just piss off Alfred more to talk about it.

Though he tried, Alfred couldn’t shake the negative feelings looming over him when he walked through his front door after school. Francis, who had just finished coming down the stairs when Alfred walked in, gasped at the sight of his face.

“What on Earth happened to you?” he exclaimed, rushing over.

“Some idiots at school,” Alfred shrugged. He left the reasoning and name calling out of it. There was no reason to worry Francis more than he was already. “How bad is it?”

“You might want to look for yourself,” Francis grimaced before walking away to the kitchen.

When Alfred did look at the bruise in the washroom, he grimaced, too. It was dark and angry. Alfred was surprised it wasn’t more swollen, but grateful. Of course, there would be no hiding this, so he made up his mind to tell the real story while he did his homework before dinner. What was the point of lying? It would only make a mess.

When his parents saw his face, they threatened to call the school. He had to practically beg them not to, and when Matthew stepped in between the near fight between Arthur and Alfred over it, he came up with a possible solution.

“By the sounds of it, they won’t do it again. I’ll stay around Alfred for the next week anyway.”

To Alfred’s dismay, this seemed to work in settling everyone down, and dinner soon took its usual course. Once they were done, Alfred went back up to his room, feeling even worse than before.

_ Shirtlifter _ . He wondered if that guy even knew what it meant. Probably not. And he definitely didn’t know how much it meant to Alfred--barely anyone did. He squeezed his eyes shut behind his glasses, breath picking up as he suppressed the memories threatening to resurface. Going back into those was his Pandora’s Box, and there was no way in hell he was going to open it. Not now, when things had been going so well.

As he lay on his bed, back pressed into his soft, squishy sheets, he stared at the ceiling and sighed. It had been so long since that day, since he’d--

“Not right now,” he murmured aloud. He got up, feeling fidgety. Though it was creeping to being the late evening, he was suddenly bursting with restlessness that had to be dealt with. But what could he do? An idea came to him… but he’d need some help. It was a big project--he’d need the help of the experts.

Without thinking much, he scooted off of his bed and made his way to Francis and Arthur’s room, praying that they weren’t up to something as he knocked softly on their door. He’d learned the hard way to always knock before entering their room.

The door opened to reveal a shirtless Francis, wearing nothing but black sweatpants low on his waist. However, he had damp hair and a glowing face, so Alfred knew he hadn’t interrupted anything. Probably. 

“Is Arthur in there?” Alfred asked. “I… uh… I need some help with something, if you guys aren’t busy.”

“Course not, come in!” Francis grinned, showing off his perfect teeth and walking back into the room. Alfred followed, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked, raising up off of the bed and setting his paperback novel down on the night table along with his glasses. He pretended not to stare at Alfred’s bruised face and Alfred pretended not to notice that he was.

“I need some help,” Alfred repeated. He propped himself on the edge of the couple’s bed and continued, “I need some help sorting through my clothes to make room for new stuff.”

Alfred could have sworn Francis flew across the room, because suddenly the man was in his face, grabbing Alfred’s arm and pulling him to his room. Arthur was laughing behind them.

When the three of them got to Alfred’s room, Francis was jumping with excitement, while Arthur waisted no time swinging Alfred’s bureau doors open. Immedietly, he was pulling out shirts. Before Alfred could stop him, Arthur had tossed a sufficent pile on Alfred’s bed, saying, “These are all too small.”

“Well, damn, okay Arthur. You trying to tell me something?” Alfred laughed, only slightly peeved.

Francis stepped in then, inspecting what was left in the bureau. He made a sound of disgust. “Oh, you seriously like this?” he exclaimed, pulling out an old shirt that Alfred had honestly forgot he owned. Arthur laughed at the looks on both of their faces.

The trio spent about half an hour sorting through just the top of the bureau, before making their way to the drawers. Arthur stopped at the underwwear drawer.

“Should we just avoid this one?” he asked, giving Alfred a pointed look. Alfred wondered how he knew what was in the drawer, but considering the drawer had a sticker on it saying  _ Open At Your Own Risk _ , it made sense that Arthur knew. When Alfred didn’t answer immediately, Arthur roleld his eyes and started to help Alfred and Francis sort through Alfred’s pants.

Mattie walked in a while later, puzzled when he saw the other members of his family arguing over a pair of ripped jeans--Arthur was yelling something about it being trashy and dressing like a popper, Francis was begging Alfred not to become a hoe, while Alfred was trying to explain that it was a trend. Matthew thought it was ridiculous, but assisted Alfred in getting the other two to let him keep the pants.

The four of them worked together for another few minutes, and pretty soon there was a whole lot of spae for new clothes in Alfred’s bureau. Before Mattie could stop them, the three were running to Mattie’s room, repeating the entire process over again.

By the end of it all, there was enough clothes thrown away to fill a store, and the four boys made plans to shop the next day after school. Alfred was finally looking forward to going to school the next day.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> I know, I suck for not posting, and I suck even more for making the chapter so short. I'm really sorry!  
Life is kicking my ass, and I've been so busy and tired. I'll try harder to post more frequently.  
Thank you for sticking through my shit :)  
Thanks, darlings <3

Being excited about getting through school was a mistake. It was buzzing with a strange energy, and based on all the looks Alfred was getting, he could only assume it was due to the previous day’s incident.

Lunch was a blessing, and so was his free period. He spent the time with Ivan, glad to have a chance to just  _ relax _ . The two boys were walking in the hall, speaking in hushed tones so they didn’t disturb the classes in session.

“I just don’t get it!” Alfred exclaimed, quietly. “I don’t even know that guy! I’ve seen him, like, once before yesterday.” When he saw Ivan pull his scarf up a bit, he moved closer to him, taking Ivan’s cold hand in his, the contact sending chills up that arm. “It wasn’t your fault, babe.” he kissed the back of the other boy’s hand in reassurance. When he looked up again, Ivan was smiling at him.

“I’ll assume you didn’t want to keep this a secret?” he asked, hand ready on his scarf,

“You sort of outed us by running up to me and wrapping yourself around me yesterday,” Alfred replied, grinning. Ivan giggled, and Alfred could’ve sworn he fell even more in love.

“Like you really minded,” he smiled, letting his scarf fall a bit more. Briefly, Alfred thought of the scar, the story behind it that he had yet to hear. He pushed it aside, along with his guilt. Stories would be for another time. “Wanna head out?” Ivan asked, gesturing to the oncoming doors.

“Sure, but I can’t skip this time. I have plans for after school with Mattie, Francis, and Arthur.” Without response, Ivan practically pulled Alfred out of the main doors and towards the parking lot.

  
  


The shopping mall was loud, the chatter of people swarming Alfred’s ears. Shoes squeaked against polished floors. He felt drawn to it, but he knew it was where he drew the line. If it got even a hint of disorder, he’d take it as full out chaos and panic. It happened before.

Francis, however, seemed right at home. He lived for things and places like the shopping mall. Arthur, not so much, though it showed less than he felt.

The four boys were currently in some mainstream store, with Arthur and Francis picking out most of the clothes. Mattie and Alfred were wandering, making jokes about some of the silly items they found. They were not very efficient shoppers.

“Try these on,” Francis said, giving Alfred a small pile of shirts and pants and pushing him towards the dressing room, calling out that he wanted to see how everything fit while Afred shut the door.

All was going well--some nice clothes were picked, things that Alfred would actually wear. A few shirts in, Alfred stopped looking at himself in the mirror, heading right out of the change room. He wasn’t good at telling what fit well and what didn’t. He didn’t realize his grave mistake until he stepped out.

“Holy shit!” Matthew exclaimed, getting Francis and Arthur’s attention. Matthew was laughing hysterically while Arthur’s jaw hit the floor and Francis was a mixture of the two, with a strange look of pride on his face.

“What?” Alfred asked, annoyed. It was just a stupid outfit. He turned, looking in the mirror, muttering, “oh, fuck.” 

The angry red marks Ivan had left a few days before were now purple, and furious. If his face had looked bad from one punch, his chest looked like he’d been full out attacked by a gang. The worst part; he could offer no excuse. They already knew what the marks were, and where they were from.

“The shirt looks good,” Arthur said through clenched teeth. The tick in his eyebrow was enough proof to Alfred to convince him that Arthur was somewhere else in his mind, and Alfred had a very good idea as to where… 

Among sensing the shift in mood, Matthew’s laughter died down, and instead he said, “we about ready to go? I think Mom and Dad were planning on us being back for dinner.”

However, it seemed like only Francis heard him--Alfred and Arthur were stuck in their own realm, Arthur looking at his younger cousin, stuck in a horrid place in time in his mind, while Alfred stood there, trying to pretend like everything was okay, and avoiding the headspace Arthur was in altogether.

Francis told Alfred to get changed back into his normal clothes while standing quite close to Arthur. Alfred didn’t miss the way Francis rubbed his hand against his fiance’s, or how Arthur seemed to be blinking faster than before. 

Alfred shut the door on it all.

  
  


That night he tossed and turned, seemingly unable to get comfortable in his bed. His mind pulled up his worst memories, things he’d tucked away. Again he felt miserable, useless, and pathetic. He wanted to crawl out of his skin--leave the empty husk to rot. But there was no escaping how he felt… no escape… 

_ The speeding car… the locked doors… the blaring radio… his small body wracked with fear… shaking… crying … begging… “Stop… please…” _

Alfred bolted up in his bed, trembling, tears tracking down his face, clutching the blankets with all his might. He heard a rustle, and sprung to turn on his night side lamp. Nothing. Nothing except the usual shadows of his room. Slowly, he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. He forced air into his lungs, but he was still left gasping.

Nothing could mend the pain.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> Another short chapterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr  
But at least it hasn't been as long, right... right?  
Thank you for all the support on this fic as well as my other ones!
> 
> Thanks, darlings <3

When Alfred woke up the next day, he didn’t want to move, let alone go to school. His head hurt from crying--a pain he was getting all too used to, if he hadn’t been already. 

He laid there for an extra half hour, debating on going at all. As he started to let his eyelids droop, a thought came to his mind. Fleeting, yet strong all the same. Scars, and the faint scent of peppermint. 

Alfred didn’t want to get up for himself, but maybe he could do it for Ivan.

  
  


Alfred could tell Ivan knew something was up the moment the boy came to his locker. He put it off, pretending like everything was fine. He told himself it was for Ivan’s sake, and a part of him really believed it. 

_ Ivan wouldn’t want me if he knew _ , Alfred thought. He buckled down the guilt rising in his chest as he looked into those lilac eyes that held so much love for him, love that Alfred was starting to think he didn’t deserve.

But then there was the way that Ivan was eyeing him in his oversized knitted sweater and tight ripped jeans and Alfred could honestly care less about if he deserved Ivan’s love or not, because he wanted it. He loved Ivan to the point where it was nearly painful, and there was no way in Hell that he was letting that go.

It wasn’t until the two boys were strolling around outside by the school walls that Ivan took Alfred by the arm abruptly, pulling him behind the oil tank and against a wall. At first he thought Ivan was going to give him shit for being off--he had been abnormally cold towards his boyfriend--but was pleasantly surprised when Ivan caught his lips in a deep kiss.

Alfred kissed him back, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s neck. There was a charge to the kiss; it put a comforting weight in Alfred’s chest, dispelling any negativity. It lifted his spirits, making him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Free.

Ivan broke the kiss, giving them both a chance to breathe. He tucked his head into the crook of Alfred’s neck. Alfred took the chance to breathe in the scent of Ivan’s scarf, the peppermint helping him clear his head from the intensity of the kiss, lips tingling.

The boys cleared out before anyone found them; no need for that call home. Instead they headed towards Ivan’s car, holding hands and joking around as per usual. It made Alfred feel better, feel  _ normal _ , like himself.

They got into the car, and Ivan started driving, Alfred on music duty again. It was like the first time they’d really hung out and hadn’t tried to kill each other. The memory made Alfred smile.

Ivan had driven them to town, and it took Alfred a moment to realize that they were in a parking complex, tucked away into a corner. As Ivan took out the keys, he undid his seatbelt, leaning over and capturing Alfred in yet another kiss. This time, however, it had the same tone as when they’d been in Alfred’s bedroom. Oh, how Alfred longed for that bedroom.

Pretty soon, the two boys were climbing into the back seats, Ivan pulling Alfred onto his lap, still in total control. They claimed each other’s mouths, teeth clashing while low groans filled the car. 

Ivan reached up, ghosting his fingers along Alfred’s cheek before removing his glasses. Now unable to see clearly, Alfred felt impaired,  _ vulnerable _ . It made his gut clench. He stopped kissing Ivan with as much fervor.

His boyfriend didn’t seem to pick up on this, somehow managing to get Alfred on his back, caging him in, but this time Alfred didn’t feel comforted; he felt trapped. His breathing became shaky, and he was close to hyperventilating. The car was too hot, too small, yet he felt so much smaller. It was all becoming too much too fast.

With sudden panic, Alfred pushed Ivan off of him, feeling tears threaten to spill. He scrambled up, back pressed up against the door. Gasping, he tried desperately to ground himself to reality, to not let memories cloud his vision.

He jumped when he felt a hand lightly touch his knee. His pent up shoulders relaxed when he saw it was only Ivan, yet guilt hit him so hard at the sight of fear in Ivan’s eyes that he thought he might puke.

“Дорогой, talk to me,” the larger boy whispered, as if he was scared to startle Alfred again. “What’s going on?”

Alfred couldn’t speak, and instead flung himself at Ivan, giving him a bone-crushing hug, desperate for comfort. Ivan didn’t say anything, instead making it his soul duty to hug Alfred back just as tight, running his fingers through Alfred’s short hair.

  
  


Alfred refused to talk about it. He made Ivan drive him back to school, and then went to his next class feeling like shit. He’d made Ivan feel like shit, and felt like a jerk for doing so. He felt like an absolute douche, which only got worse when he left Ivan without explanation. 

How could he explain it? Especially without telling Ivan why he’d had the sudden panic attack. Maybe he could lie, bend the truth a little so Ivan wouldn’t know… 

No. Ivan was too kind and understanding. He didn’t deserve to be lied to. Fuck, how was Alfred going to fix this?

The answer came when he was putting his things into his bag at the end of the day. Ivan came up beside him, keeping a distance bigger than usual. He seemed timid, and he was doing that shoe tap again. Before Alfred could even try to console him, give some sort of reasoning, Ivan was speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out, clearly anxious. His words seemed to not have any air support, and his accent was thicker than ever. “I took things too far and--”

“Stop.” Alfred was surprised by the authority in his own voice. Ivan seemed surprised too, meeting his gaze for the first time. Alfred squared his jaw, bringing himself to his full height, still leaving him a few inches shorter than Ivan. “It wasn’t your fault, babe, really,” he continued, trying to soften his voice a bit. “It’s… it’s my own thing to deal with.”

“Let me help you,” Ivan begged, finally moving closer to take Alfred’s hand. 

“I don’t know if you can,” Alfred whispered. He looked at their intertwined hands, wishing there was some way to forget.

“Then let me try.” 

Alfred looked back up, eyes locking with Ivan’s. He couldn’t form any words. Instead he nodded, unable to say no. Then there was the way Ivan gave him the sweetest smile, followed by a hesitant kiss to the cheek, and Alfred couldn’t help but wonder how the hell he managed to ever dislike this guy. Maybe he really could help… 

It was worth a try.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> Things have started to open up again where I'm at, which is awesome! I hope everyone is safe and doing well.  
Also I'm thinking of doing a one-shot and/or series for GerIta (Germany/Northern Italy)--what do you guys think? Tell me in the comments.
> 
> Thanks, darlings <3

“--and then I just started panicking,” Alfred finally finished explaining, looking up at Matthew with wide, yet solemn eyes. He was sitting on his brother’s bed after school as said boy rushed around his room, getting ready for what was probably another date with Gilbert. Alfred had to question who went on dates on school days? He decided not to say anything, though, since he’d technically done the same thing.

Without pausing, Matthew said, “You should probably discuss at least some of it with him, Al.” Pulling his shirt off over his head, Matthew continued, “He wants to help you, and if you want to avoid this from happening again, it would be easier if he knew.” He sounded bland, almost like he wasn’t even listening to Alfred. It pissed Alfred off. 

“I know,” he groaned, resting his face against his fist. “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.”

“But?” Matthew questioned, doing up the buttons of his new shirt.

“But… how do I even start?” Alfred exclaimed, sighing and flopping back onto the bed. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled, rolling onto his stomach, lifting his face so he didn’t break his glasses… again.

The mattress dipped, and Matthew flopped down beside his exasperated brother. “You’ll work it out, Alfred. I know you will.” He gave him a pat on the back that did little to console him, then got up. “Now scoot, eh. I gotta change my pants.”

  
  


_ That didn’t help at all _ , Alfred thought, glumly. With yet another heavy sigh, he kicked a pebble out of his way. While he walked, he found small things to distract him; the sound his shoes made when they hit the sidewalk, the different scents he smelled when he walked by restaurants, the noise levels depending on which alley he passed.

It worked for a while, but soon enough he was thinking again. He’d been hoping Matthew would give him better advice than what he had already been thinking, but he’d just said Alfred’s thoughts out loud. It was probably just more evidence that telling Ivan was the right move, but it was just so damn  _ hard _ . 

Something Arthur had told him a long time ago sprang into his head.  _ Life isn’t easy, Alfred. You’ll learn that soon enough. _ They had been talking over the phone back when Arthur lived in England. He’d seemed upset and out of it, but Alfred couldn’t recall why. He didn’t even remember why he had called his cousin in the first place. Just those words. It was true, and Alfred had learned such a few months after. It was something he could never forget, and apparently could never get over.

A loud horn jolted him out from his thoughts, and he quickly stepped back onto the sidewalk, out of the way of a dark, almost military styled jeep. The driver rolled down the window, probably to yell at Alfred for being careless. 

“Jones!” They called out instead, and low and behold it was no other than Ludwig Beilschmidt.

“Hey,” he called back. “Sorry I got in your way. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I can tell--I almost hit you,” Ludwig called out. “Hop in.”

Alfred checked before crossing this time, then got into the passenger seat of the jeep. Once he was buckled in, Ludwig continued driving. “So, what’s got you all muddled up?” he asked, eyes on the road.

“Just… thoughts,” Alfred replied. “Where’re you headed?”

“Just driving around aimlessly. Helps me think.”

“Ah, sorry I wrecked your thinking time.”

“Not at all. If that was the case I wouldn’t have picked you up in the first place.” They fell into a timid silence. They’d never really hung out before, even though their brothers were dating. “Did that douche bag bother you again?” he asked after a while, and it took a moment for Alfred to realize he meant the guy from school.

Subconsciously, he reached up to touch the bruise on his face. “No, he didn’t come back after that.”

“Coward.”

That made Alfred laugh. “Honestly though. Like, the guy hit me when I least expected it, and as soon as you walked up, he ran off with his tail between his legs.” Alfred caught the slight smile Ludwig had on his face, like he was proud of himself for making Alfred laugh. He guessed any positive response was pleasing to Ludwig. He wasn’t always a very good conversationalist. From what Alfred knew, he was still quite introverted. Feli was slowly bringing him out of his shell.

“Is Matty at Gilbert’s place?” He asked, doing his best to keep the conversation rolling.

“Ja, that’s why I chose to drive instead of stay. Give them some privacy.”

“But I thought Gilbert had his own place.” Alfred’s eyebrows drew together as he became more and more confused with each new scenario he made in his head. Ludwig made a face of discomfort, so Alfred rushed out, “You don’t have to explain! It’s none of my business, anyway.” 

“No, it’s… fine.” Ludwig took a deep breath before continuing. “I live with Gilbert in his apartment. He’s the only immediate family I have left.”

“Oh, shit,” Alfred said softly. “I… you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

Ludwig’s eyes flicked toward him for barely a second, then focused back on the road as he turned left. Alfred always got nervous at left turns, but Ludwig handled it like a pro. To Alfred’s surprise, Ludwig did explain. “My mother died during labour with me. My father passed during what was supposed to be a peace-keeping job in Kosovo.” There was another tense pause, then Ludwig said, “Gilbert and I would stay with other family members while our father would be away on missions. We’d only get to be with him for a few months at a time, so I never got close to him. Gilbert was, though.”

“I can’t even imagine how much that would suck,” Alfred replied, not really sure what to say. “The only experience I have relatively close to that is when my cousin lived in Britain, but it barely counts cause he was from there to start with.”

Ludwig furrowed his brows. “How would your cousin live all the way in Britain if your family is over here?”

Alfred let out a soft laugh, trying to ease the tension any way that he could. “Well, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. But I think that my mom’s sister travels for business, and just really fell in love with the place. She met my uncle there, and she switched company branches so they could buy a house together. Then Arthur came along a few years after--he’s my cousin.”

“Older or younger than you?” Ludwig asked, making another turn. Alfred was totally not counting the turns and 100% not making sure that they were staying within city limits. Nope.

“Older by about four years.” Where were they headed? Alfred figured he could just ask but he didn’t want to seem weird, even though he wasn’t sure how that would make him seem weird. 

“I have an older cousin, but he’s older than me by over a decade.”

“What’s his name?”

“Roderich,” Ludwig replied. 

A grin spread over Alfred’s face. “Not Roderich Edelstein, right?”

“How do you know him?” Ludwig asked, sounding only the tiniest bit defensive.

“Oh my fuck,” Alfred laughed. How crazy was that? First his boyfriend’s mom knew Roderich, now his fellow high schooler. “Arthur works with him at the hospital. Arthur’s the desk position in Roderich’s unit.”

“Small fucking world,” Ludwig whistled. 

The two boys fell into silence again, more comfortable this time. Alfred was silently thankful that Ludwig kept to the more well lit streets, and they seemed to be circling the same areas mostly. Before Alfred realized it, it was early evening. His stomach was threatening to growl.

Ludwig seemed to think ahead of him. “You wanna go through a drive-thru?” he asked. He seemed unsure, anxious. “I could always drop you off at your place if you don’t want to.”

“Bro, you under-estimate how much I love fast food,” Alfred laughed. “But I didn’t take my wallet when I left.”

“I don’t mind paying,” Ludwig replied. “If you’re really hung up over it, you could always pay me back later.”

“Dude, you’re the best.”

  
  


Alfred stuffed the burger into his face, relishing every part of it. Ludwig was beside him eating his enormous order of french fries. While Alfred loved McDonald’s, he wasn’t sure that even he could eat that many fries. 

The boys were sitting on a park bench, enjoying what would soon be the last of the warmer weather. As the sun sunk lower in the sky, the air became colder. Alfred was glad he’d snatched a sweater before leaving. Ludwig seemed perfectly fine in his jeans, unbutton green flannel and black tank top, though Alfred was certain the wind was going right through them. His feet were probably warm, though, in those big black boots he always wore. The air was less tense then it had been in the jeep, like being outside helped both boys relax. They made small talk as they ate, and somehow ended up talking about their boyfriends.

“--and he tries to get me to nap with him. Like, legitimately sleep. I swear it’s his favourite thing to do.” Both he and Alfred were laughing; Alfred loudly, Ludwig softer, more like a low rumble. It was just so  _ Feli _ .

“How long have you two been together?” Alfred asked, sipping his soda.

“Two years,” Ludwig replied. “Nearly three. Our anniversary is right around Valentine’s Day. We went out for dinner--Feli wanted to just stay in, but I wanted to do something nice.”

“Dang, that’s a while. Ivan and I have only been together for, like, a week.” Damn, it felt so much longer than that. So much had happened in such little time, and then there was the fact that they had clearly liked each other for years and not said anything. Compared to Ludwig and Feliciano, however, it must have been nothing. Even Matthew and Gilbert hadn’t been together that long. No wonder Ludwig had changed so much in the past two years--he’d learned so much… more than Matthew… 

“Hey, Ludwig,” Alfred started carefully, an idea forming in his head. “Has Feli ever tried to, like, help you with stuff?” A series of coughs made him look over; the German was beet-red with blush, eyebrows high up his forehead, choking on his food. Alfred quickly realized his mistake. “I didn’t mean it in, like, a sexual way!” he rushed out. “I mean, like, an actual problem.”

Ludwig swallowed his food and cleared his throat, immediately relaxing, desperately trying to compose himself. Alfred had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. For someone who’d been in a relationship with such a clingy guy like Feli, he really got embarrassed over sex. 

“Yes,” he eventually replied. “Feli isn’t the best at telling when something is wrong, but once he finds out he does everything he can to help make it better.” Before Alfred could hit him with another question, Ludwig asked, “Is that why you were out walking?”

Alfred sighed quite heavily--he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “It’s just… things that happened a long time ago coming back up in my head, and it’s starting to affect my relationship. I know I should tell Ivan--he knows that something is wrong, but…” 

“But it’s hard,” Ludwig finished. “I understand that. Sometimes you just don’t want to talk about it.”

“So what do I do?” Alfred exclaimed. “I don’t want to talk about it--I don’t even want to acknowledge that it happened!” Alfred was close to tears, and he did not want to cry in front of a guy he barely knew. “I just,” his voice broke. Alfred kept his eyes pinned to his burger in his hand. “I just want to forget about it.”

Ludwig was silent for a moment, and that only made Alfred more nervous. He’d said too much, obviously. Finally he heard Ludwig say, “That’s not how things work.” His voice was so gentle, it didn’t even sound like him talking. He made no move to be closure to Alfred, and Alfred was silently thankful. “I wish I could forget the fact that my mother gave her life to bring me into this world, or that my father died just to give my brother and I a chance at life, but I can’t. That’s not how it works.” Not a single word held menace. If anything, they soothed Alfred in some unexplainable way. His eyes no longer prickled with tears, and his stomach didn’t have waves rolling through it.

He gave a soft, but empty laugh. It was more of a huff. “I guess not, huh.” He waited a moment before saying, “You think I should tell him, don’t you?”

Ludwig nodded. “That’s what I would do. But don’t rush it. Whatever it is, it’s your thing to tell. You get to decide when and how you tell him… whatever it is you’re staying quiet about.” He tried to give what Alfred assumed was a comforting smiled, but he just looked awkward and in slight pain. 

Alfred couldn’t help it--he burst out laughing. After a beat of confusion, Ludwig started laughing, too. Alfred thanked him for the advice, and the two boys continued to eat their food and talk much more comfortably. Finally, Alfred had a bit of an idea of what he was going to do.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> This chapter is way longer than usual, so hopefully that makes you guys happy :)  
It's mostly a Bad Touch Trio chapter, just because they're my favourite trio ever, and I love them and wanted more BTT content.  
Once again, thank you so much for the love and support! It means the world to me.  
Also, there may be some new content coming your guys' way soon, and I don't mean new chapters :P
> 
> Thanks, darlings <3

The entire place smelled of metal and stale sweat, though Alfred was sure he smelled much worse. He was drenched in sweat, muscles sore. He kept pushing himself, even when his thighs threatened to give out on the leg press. When he finally finished, he felt like he wasn’t even able to lift his water bottle to his lips. It felt good. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this.

He hadn’t been in the gym for a while. During the off season, he tended to mellow out. Even though track wasn’t until spring, Alfred was in the gym and also back onto his cardio schedule--he’d been eating so much fast food, he needed to start training now if he wanted any chance of making it on the track team this year.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself. He was currently in here during his free period instead of being with Ivan making out in some empty hallway or car. Alfred was refusing to focus on that, however. He needed time, though. And sure, he should have told Ivan, but once again he didn’t know how. So he was avoiding all of it in the most productive way he knew how that wasn’t homework.

A tap on the shoulder jolted him from his lack of thinking, and he pulled out an earphone to see who was behind him. It was Ivan. A mixture of happiness and dread pooled in Alfred’s gut.

“Hey, babe,” he said, still slightly out of breath, setting his water bottle down on the bench beside him and turning around. Ivan went in for a hug, but Alfred took a step back laughing. “I’m all sweaty--do you really want that on you?” Ivan moved back, pulling his scarf up to his nose and took a deep breath. “What’s the matter?” Alfred asked, taking a step forward and taking one of Ivan’s cold hands in his. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Ivan was going to say, but he played dumb anyway.

“I’ve just… missed you,” he said glumly. 

“I’m right here,” Alfred replied.

“But you’re not  _ here _ ,” Ivan said, tapping his temple. “You’ve been avoiding me for nearly a week, texting back late, and when I finally get time with you, you’re distant.” He started to fidget, doing that insidious toe-tap. “Ever since that incident in the car you’ve been distancing yourself from me. And I know about Bei-- _ Ludwig _ .” Alfred could feel himself start to get defensive, but Ivan continued. “Well, I know that you guys went and hung out--he told me how he nearly hit you and stuff.” There was an edge to Ivan’s voice, and Alfred couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh my God, Ivan Braginski--you’re jealous!” 

Ivan did not seem nearly as amused as Alfred did. In fact, he seemed rather pissed off. “Yeah, okay, maybe I am. But I wouldn’t be if you would stop pretending like I don’t exist!” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was quite firm. Alfred’s laughter died in his throat, and he coughed, clearing it up, guilt flooding into his gut. Alfred had barely noticed how fast the time had gone by. Had it really nearly been a full week?

“Look, babe, I… I’m sorry,” he said, trying to sooth Ivan’s worries. “I just… I have a lot on my mind lately. It’s complicated, and I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

“But you could talk about it with Ludwig?” he retorted. He seemed angry, but Alfred could clearly see the hurt in his eyes. He really thought Alfred didn’t trust him.

“I didn’t tell Ludwig anything,” Alfred replied, keeping his voice calm. Normally he would be the one escalating things, but he learned from living with Arthur to avoid escalation. “I was asking him advice on what to do, but I didn’t tell him what it was.”

“What to do about what?” Ivan asked, clearly at the end of his patience. He no longer seemed mad, just hurt. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

“‘Cause it’s not something I like to talk about!” Ah, shit. He’d raised his voice. Continuing quickly, Alfred lowered his voice again, saying, “Baby, a long time ago something… shitty happened, and it stuck with me. I had a panic attack in the car because of that, not because of you.” Ivan still looked upset, eyes downcast and scarf high up on his nose, but he didn’t look angry anymore. Alfred took that as a good sign. He continued slowly. “I’ve been getting triggered by it easier than usual lately, and I avoided it for a long time, even though I shouldn’t have. It’s not about you, and I’ll tell you eventually. I just need time to process it.”

Ivan huffed, which turned into a sigh. “Can I have a kiss?” he mumbled, giving Alfred the cutest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen.

“You can have all the kisses you want,” he replied sweetly, gently removing the scarf from Ivan’s face and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. The reaction was immediate; Ivan wrapped his arms around Alfred’s waist and pulled him close. Alfred mumbled something about being sweaty and gross against Ivan’s lips, Ivan muttered something about not caring, and they continued to kiss. It was clear that Ivan had missed him, and Alfred felt like such a shitty boyfriend for it. However, he also felt relieved that Ivan was not angry, or pushing him for answers. He realized how incredibly lucky he was to have Ivan stay by his side while he sorted himself out.

They broke apart, but Ivan didn’t let Alfred go. He rested his head on Alfred’s, sighing again. “I just want to help you--for you to know that I’m here for you, and that you can trust me.”

Alfred slipped his face into Ivan’s neck, getting a face-full of scarf. “It’s not about trust, baby. And I do trust you. It’s just really hard to talk about, and I haven’t spoken about it since it happened.”

Ivan made a grumbly noise, pulling Alfred even closer to him. They were quiet for a while, until Ivan said, “Not trying to be rude or anything, but you stink.”

Alfred laughed against his neck. “Do you mean I’m a shitty boyfriend, or that I smell.”

“You smell,” Ivan replied, and Alfred laughed again. 

“I know, I told you I was sweaty and gross. I was gonna shower before my last class anyway.”

Ivan giggled. “Well, you’d better get to it before I take you in the shower myself,” he said, voice a mere growl in his ear.

Alfred felt chills run down his spin even though he was incredibly warm. “Some day, babe,” he said, retracting himself from Ivan’s embrace, giving him one last deep kiss before grabbing his bag and heading off to the showers.

  
  


When Alfred got out of the showers, Ivan was sitting on a bench chatting with someone. Alfred wiped some left over steam off of his glasses, and when he put them back on he saw who Ivan was talking to.

“Hey, Feli!” he called, walking over to the two boys. Feli greeted him with a large smile, face as bright as ever. Seriously, what kind of products did this guy use? ‘Cause his face always had that healthy glow and was zit-less. Alfred had to learn his secrets someday.

“Hey, Alfred,” Feli replied, going right in for a hug , taking Alfred off guard. He returned the hug, looking over the shorter boy’s shoulder at Ivan, who was stifling a laugh, and stuck out his tongue. “How’s it going?”

“I’m vibin’, you?” And then he was off, telling Alfred all about his day so far, getting every detail. It reminded Alfred of a really excited child. Right as Feli was getting to how he nearly fell going down the stairs--you’d think he would’ve said that earlier--a voice that Alfred was becoming quite familiar with cut him off.

“Feli, slow down. Your words are passing right through his head,” Ludwig said, walking over, dressed in workout clothes, and wrapped an arm around Feli’s waist, pulling him close.

“Ludwig~” Feli cheered, turning around and wrapping himself around the German. It was clear that Ludwig was battling a smile off of his face, and losing. “I missed you!”

“I was gone for two minutes,” Ludwig barked as Feli gave him a big kiss on the cheek even though the shorter boy had to go on his tiptoes to do so. Alfred and Ivan were stifling their laughter. “Feli,” he whined, embarrassed.

“Don’t mind us,” Alfred said.

“Oh, not at all,” Ivan added.

Ludwig groaned, but it lacked any annoyance. “Don’t give him any ideas.” Alfred and Ivan lost it at that, cackling to the point where they were both doubled over. Ludwig rolled his eyes, but took the opportunity to give Feli a kiss back, as well as a soft, genuine smile.

“Damn, Beilschmidt,” Ivan wheezed, struggling to get his breath back from all the laughter. “You’ve gone soft for him.”

“Speak for yourself,” he retorted. “I just so happen to know that you send kissy faces on Snap constantly.” Ivan shot a look at Alfred, who merely shrugged. He’d totally told Ludwig that the day before, but he held no shame. It was adorable. “Also, why are you not changed yet?” He said, returning his attention to the Italian still in his arms. “You said you’d join me in the gym today.”

Alfred and Ivan looked at each other, taking that as their cue to leave. They said their goodbyes, leaving the couple to bicker about training, or something. It was good timing, too, because the warning bell rang right as they reached Alfred’s locker. 

“I’ll see you after class,” Ivan said, giving Alfred a quick kiss before leaving for his next class. 

“See ‘ya,” Alfred called after him, stuffing his workout bag into his locker and dragging his sore legs to his next class.

  
  


Alfred walked into his home feeling good. Sore, but good. He was proud of himself for getting his lazy ass back in the gym and for talking things out with Ivan. Needless to say, he was quite “chipper” as Arthur would put it. Apparently it was noticeable.

“Oh, someone got laid,” Gilbert said from the couch, beer in hand. Beer? But Gilbert was only a year older than them… 

“I thought you were only 20,” Alfred said slowly, looking at the beer in Gilbert’s hand, and then at him, brows furrowing deeper when he saw Gilbert’s eyes widen in what seemed to be shock. Before he could reply, however, someone came into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Alfred! How was school?” he asked, mossy green eyes glinting with joy, smile wide. 

“Hey, Toni. It was good. Hit the gym again,” he replied, kicking off his shoes and trying not to make a face at the dull pain in his calves. Yeah, he’d definitely pushed himself too far.

Antonio laughed, a rich sound, like he had never experienced misery in his life, even though Alfred knew that wasn’t true. “Explains the stiffness.” He walked over to the stairs, leaning over the railing and yelling, “Francis! Alfred’s home!” 

Pounding feet upstairs signaled that Francis was coming. He raced down the stairs, somehow he didn’t trip. “Don’t tell Arthur, but we’re planning a surprise date! For our anniversary!”

“I thought your anniversary was in October?” Alfred said, confused.

“Nah, that was just the first time they kissed,” Gilbert laughed from the couch, sipping his beer again.

“Hey, stop that! You’re not of legal drinking age and if my mom finds out you drank that she’s gonna lose her shit,” Alfred warned him.

“Pardon?” Gilbert replied, sitting up straighter and uncrossing his legs. “I'm of legal drinking age.”

“Maybe back in Germany--in America it’s 21, and you’re only 20.” He watched as the trio gave each other confused glances, clearly baffled. 

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Francis started. Then Alfred was confused. He cocked his head to the side, brain muddled as he tried to figure out what they weren’t getting.

“Yeah,” Gilbert replied, setting down his drink on the coffee table and resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m 23.”

“What the  _ fuck?! _ ” Alfred exclaimed. “But--but Mattie!”

Gilbert smirked, though he looked nervous and taken aback by Alfred’s outburst. “He’s well aware of my age. So are your parents. Why do you think they wouldn’t let us go out for a while?”

“B-but,” Alfred stammered. “Your grad picture…” 

“He had to drop out for a couple of years so he could work,” Antonio explained, resting a hand on Alfred’s shoulder.

“Ja, I went back for my high school diploma after,” Gilbert added. “So I did technically graduate one year before you.”

“‘Cause of your dad?” Alfred asked, then slapped his hands over his mouth. Francis and Antonio gasped, but Gilbert remained silent. “Ludwig told me!” Alfred rushed out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have just said that like it was nothing.”

“It’s okay,” Gilbert said surprisingly calmly. “You’re right. I went to work because our old man passed away. I didn’t want to have to rely on distant family members to look after me anymore, so I arranged it so that I could go work and finish my diploma later.” Gilbert laughed lightly, easing the tension in the room. “I’m surprised Ludwig actually told you that--he doesn’t talk about it a whole lot.”

“We, uhhh, we were hanging out yesterday, and it somehow came up in conversation.”

Antonio laughed. “That must’ve been a weird ass conversation.” Then all four of them were laughing.

“Anyway,” Gilbert said standing up and grabbing his bottle and raising it slightly. “Legal.” He took a big gulp of it, and Antonio rolled his eyes. “Oh, put those eyes away, Toni. You’re not completely clear of faults either, Mr. I-Had-Sex-Before-The-Legal-Age.”

“Hey!” he protested, storming over to Gilbert. “You make it sound like I’m some pedo, you puta!”

Alfred gave Francis a look of confusion and not wanting to know the answer. Francis must have mistaken it for genuine curiosity and explained. “Antonio lost his v-card at 15 to someone else his age,” he said, calling the last part out at Gilbert, who was now bickering with Antonio.

“At least I’m not sleeping with a guy I basically helped raise!” Gilbert sneered at him.

Antonio gasped, shooting back, “I least I’m not sleeping with a guy still in high school!”

“Toni’s clearly talking about Mattie, but who is Gilbert talking about?” Alfred asked Francis who was now at his side. Gilbert and Antonio kept going at it, yelling at each other in the background.

“Toni is dating the guy who stayed with him and his family for a while when he was a kid. The guy was about 10 when he moved in, back when Toni lived in Spain. He was 15 when he moved back to Italy to be with his brother, so he lived with Toni for some very important years of his life. Toni was heartbroken when he left, but found out that the guy had moved to America from  Gilbert \--Ludwig had started to date the guy’s brother.”

“You mean Feli?” Alfred asked. “His brother’s Lovino--how could Antonio fall for him?” Lovino wasn’t exactly known for being an easy going guy like Toni--he was quite the snarky hardass, always bitching someone out for something. Normally it was Feli, and the subject matter was Ludwig.

Francis laughed. “It baffled us all,” he said, looking with a special fondness over his two bickering friends. “But Lovino makes Toni happy, and that’s all we really care about.”

“True enough. Besides, you fell for Arthur,” Alfred joked, giving Francis a light punch on the shoulder.

“--at least I can keep quite during sex!” Antonio yelled at Gilbert.

Gilbert laughed, hollering, “Bullshit! You moan like a fucking whore!”

Right as Alfred was sure one of them was going to start swinging, Francis called out, “When you two are done releasing sexual tension, we have some plans to finish.”

“Oh, yeah,” they both mumbled, shooting each other death glares before cracking up, laughing out their apologies. Francis just rolled his eyes. 

“What I meant to tell you when you got here was that tonight was to go pack your stuff. You’re leaving tonight with Mattie to go to Gilbert and Ludwig’s place,” Francis told him, pushing him towards the stairs.

Alfred’s thoughts immediately went to Ivan, and how he was already worried enough about Ludwig and Alfred being together. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work,” Alfred replied, sitting on the stairs. Damn, his quads were sore. 

“Is this because of that whole driving thing yesterday?” Gilbert asked. Alfred gave him a ‘what-the-fuck’ look, to which he shrugged. “What? Ludwig tells me a lot--unless it’s about sex. He’s very tight lipped about that, which is ironic, ‘cause he’s ga--”

“Gilbert!” Antonio scolded. “Leave Ludwig’s lack of interest in pussy out of this!”

“Does everything have to be about pussies with you two?” Francis exclaimed. “I don’t even understand--you’re both dating men!”

“Just because I’m dating a man does not mean I can’t make fun of my younger brother’s gayness,” Gilbert laughed, winking and Francis and drinking more beer. Antonio laughed with him, which eventually got to Francis and Alfred.

“Besides the point, this plan still won’t work for me.” Alfred continued, “I have actual stuff to do today.” 

Antonio saw right through his excuses. “Francis mentioned you were seeing a guy--did he say something about yesterday?” he asked, sitting down beside Alfred. 

“No, well, not specifically about that. But that definitely didn’t help. There was other stuff going on, but it’s fine now--we talked through it today, but I just don’t wanna make a new problem.” There was no point in lying to Antonio--he always knew. 

Right as Antonio was about to answer, someone’s phone went off. “Like a Virgin” by Madonna started playing. Of course, it was Gilbert’s phone. He picked up. “Hallo?” Alfred could hear the other person talking, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. “Aber Mattie und Alfred kommen vorbei.” Ah, so it was in German, and Mattie and himself were involved. There was more talking on the other line. “Das habe ich nicht gesagt, ich sage nur, dass es eine sehr volle Wohnung sein wird, und es könnte unangenehm sein, da wir einer Party-würdigen Menge so nahe sind.”

Gilbert’s entire demeanor had changed; he sounded like a parent talking to their child. Mature, with a gentle authority. He looked at Alfred, smirking like he’d just gotten a great idea. “I’ll call you right back, ja?” he said, then hung up. “That was Ludwig, he wanted to invite Feli over, but I have a better idea. Toni,” he said, and Antonio perked up, full attention on Gilbert. It was like the German was giving commands to a battalion. “Bring Lovino and Feli to my place, I’ll bring Mattie and Alfred. Alfred, you call Ivan and ask him if he wants to come over. We can have a little party of our own.” He punched the air in victory. “Ja, I am so awesome!”

“I still have homework,” Alfred protested, but took out his phone and dialed Ivan anyway. After a quick and slightly confusing phone call, Ivan said he’d be there. Gilbert took Alfred’s phone and texted his address to Ivan. Antonio’s call to Lovi was much funnier.

“Hey, Lovi,” he said cheerily. This time Alfred could make out what Lovino was saying.

“You bastard! How dare you wake me up--I was sleeping!” he yelled. Toni laughed lightly, smiling like a lovesick puppy.

“Awe, sorry, cutie. So, we’re gonna go to Gil’s tonight. We’re having a meetup kinda thing so that Francis can do something nice for Arthur. He’s been down lately.”

Lovino gave an angry grunt. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, you’re coming, too. And you’re bringing Feliciano.”

“Hell no! You think I’m going to just hand my younger fratello over to that potato with eyes?!” Lovino hollered over the phone. 

“Lovi, baby, we’re all going to be there--”

“That kraut breath is going to be all over Feli the second we get there! I am not having him defile my brother like the sadist he is!”

Alfred had to cover his mouth so he didn’t burst out laughing. Ludwig? A sadist? No fucking way. However dirty minded the guy may be, he was too sweet to Feli to do anything super kinky, Alfred was sure. Lovino was being ridiculous. And Alfred was pretty sure they’d already had sex anyway.

“Bello, we’re all going to be there. You know they wouldn’t try anything if you’re there,” Antonio explained. He didn’t look the tiniest bit annoyed with Lovino’s behaviour. If anything, he seemed happier than when Alfred had first walked in.

“It’s a school night, and Feli just got back from there yesterday, anyway!” Lovino whined. “He was late coming back from school, and God knows he can’t lie worth shit.”

Gilbert’s eyebrows rose, as if to say “oh really”, and he bit his bottom lip, looking both pissed off and proud at once. He made a gesture for Antonio to hand him the phone. He passed it over. “Hey, Lovino. It’s Gilbert.”

“Ugh, the other kraut breath.” Lovino didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as Alfred imagined he wanted to. It sounded like Lovino was just chatting with a friend. “What do you want?”

“Look, I’m going to be home all night, nothing will happen. You can even stay to make sure if you’d like,” Gilbert offered. He sounded like a diplomat. Alfred guessed that since their brothers were dating, they had these talks enough for Gilbert to get good at reasoning with Lovino. “It’s a school night, so I’ll keep Ludwig on a short leash, and I’ll have a stern talk with him, ja?”

“Fine,” Lovino agreed begrudgingly. “Now hand me back to my bastard.” 

Anotonio took his phone back, grinning like an idiot. “I’m your bastard?” he asked, sounding stupidly adorable for a grown man.

“Of course, you idiota,” Lovino replied like it was obvious. “Shoot me a text when you’re on your way.”

“I will. Te quiero, Lovi,” Antonio grinned.

Alfred could practically hear Lovino’s blush. “Ti amo anch'io, Toni.” Lovino hung up. Antonio was still grinning, looking at his phone screen with heart eyes.

Francis rolled his eyes and nudged him with his foot, getting his attention. “Earth to Toni! We don’t have a lot of time before Arthur gets back!” With that he sprinted up the stairs, likely returning to whatever he was doing before Alfred arrived. Antonio, headed back to the kitchen, and Gilbert sat back on the couch. He motioned for Alfred to sit next to him.

“Anything we can do?” Alfred asked. Gilbert drank the last of his beer.

“Nah, Toni and Francis are on it. They’re the more romantic ones, at least out of the three of us. I just tag along to provide comedic relief.” He leaned back, settling into the couch and shooting a grin at Alfred. 

“Sorry about making a scene--I seriously thought you were 20,” Alfred grimaced. Gilbert shifted, clearly uncomfortable. Alfred was, too. “I don’t, like, disapprove or anything. You make Mattie happy and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Thanks, man,” Gilbert breathed. “Honestly, it was your approval I was scared I wouldn’t get.”

“Not my parents’?”

Gilbert chuckled. He seemed to do that a lot. “Well, they didn’t like me for a bit. Mattie was very honest about my age, and it threw them off at first. But I think they just eventually realized I really liked Mattie, and that I wasn’t going to go anywhere any time soon. Besides, Mattie isn’t exactly rule abiding.”

“I don’t even want to know what you mean by that,” Alfred cringed, not wanting to imagine the two of them…  _ together _ . He’d already seen enough that one day on the couch. 

Gilbert laughed. “Nothing bad, just that he has a rebel side.” The older man leaned back into the couch--it seemed like he couldn’t stay still. “He doesn’t really care what your parents think, but when it comes to you… let’s just say I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like me.”

Someone walked through the door, and low and behold, it was Mattie. He had his ripped jeans on, and a baggy hoodie and boots. His hair was pulled into a half up half down style. Gilbert smiled, looking absolutely love stricken--it was like he was seeing Mattie for the first time. Alfred wondered for a moment; how could anyone be against these two when it was so clear how much they loved each other?

“Hey, Liebling,” he said, getting off the couch and walking over to Mattie, wasting no time getting the taller boy in his arms and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “How was school?”

“It was alright. Sorry I’m late, I stayed behind to help with our law project.” The couple gave each other a soft kiss. Matthew peaked around Gilbert to look at his brother. “You were informed on the plan?”

Alfred rolled his eyes. Of course his brother knew before him. “Yeah, gonna go pack now,” he said getting off the couch and going to his room.

This would be an interesting night.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!  
It's been so long since I posted, I know, I'm sorry. I apologize so much to you guys *nervous chuckles*  
Thanks for putting up with the long waits. I know they suck, but I've been so busy. You're support has been so appreciated--you guys don't even know.  
Thanks, darlings <3

Gilbert’s apartment was much cleaner than Alfred would have thought. Everything was in its place--like Mrs. Jones had gone through and organized everything. There was absolutely nothing in the sink, clean or dirty, and one would be hard-pressed to find dust on the floor. Even the windows were spotless. 

The kitchen connected to the living room with a step down, and from there Alfred could see the hallway that he suspected would lead to the bedrooms and bathroom. The apartment was quite minimalist, like they were ready to get up and leave any moment. Considering the Beilschmidt brothers’ past, chances are they were. The thought made Alfred sad, realising how lonely they were used to being.

His trance was quickly broken by Gilbert. “Don’t bother taking off your shoes--none of the rooms have carpets, and I gotta vacuum anyway.” Alfred decided to bite his tongue, not mentioning the fact that the place was pristine.

Eerily even footsteps made the entire group--which consisted of Gilbert, Alfred, Mattie, and Ivan (he had shown up at the same time as them, meeting them at the door, while Antonio stayed downstairs helping the Italian brothers get their stuff out of the van)--to lift their heads. Turns out it was Ludwig walking over, who had clearly been caught at a bad time.

He was drying his short hair with a small towel, shirtless, with sweat pants low on his waist. He stared wide eyed at the group, and they all stared back because, holy shit, Alfred thought his hickies were bad. Ludwig was covered from the collar-bone down, small bite marks here and there dotting his skin. 

Gilbert held the bridge of his nose while grinning, and Alfred busted out laughing. Mattie was chuckling a bit, too, but Ivan just didn’t know what to do. Alfred was also stunned; there was no way that could be from Feli--he was so sweet… 

“Jesus,” Alfred wheezed. Those bites looked borderline painful.

“I think that’s a bit too holy of a word,” Gilbert laughed, his stern demeanor falling apart as he looked at his younger brother again. Ludwig threw his towel at him, still blushing. “Go put a shirt on before Feli and Lovino get up here--he will kill you if he sees that.” Ludwig rolled his eyes and walked away as Gilbert threw the towel back at him. “Und wir unterhalten uns, wenn Sie zurückkommen, Herr geiler Teenager!” he called after him.

“Sprich für dich!” Ludwig called back from his room.

“Ich bin kein Teenager,” Gilbert said, grinning. Sounds of despair repulsion came from the hallway, and Alfred cracked up again. 

“I don’t even wanna know what you said to him,” he said, looking at Gilbert. “Also, where can I set down my stuff, because my bag is heavy as shit.”

Gilbert took his stuff and set it beside the coffee table in the living room, showing him and Ivan around the pretty big apartment. “I’m gonna pull out the couch, so you guys could sleep there.”

“Let me guess, Mattie will be in a room with you?” Alfred grinned, enjoying how Gilbert paused awkwardly before answering. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Anyway, both of our couches pull out, so I’ll probably kick Ludwig and Feli out of his room and let Toni and Lovino stay there.”

“Nein!” Ludwig protested when Gilbert told him. “That’s my room.” He crossed his arms, displeased. The Vargas’ were still not back up, and Antonio was MIA as well, but Gilbert seemed not to care that much. He was much too focused on making Ludwig cooperate--a job that Alfred was glad he didn’t have.

“I know that, but you’ll still get to sleep with Feli without Lovino watching you like a hawk,” Gilbert answered, tone soft again. Clearly this guy had a parenting mode triggered by Ludwig. “And you know he will, or he’d take Feli right out of this apartment if he saw what was under your shirt.”

Ludwig started to protest, but Gilbert cut him off, going full on stern. “Which brings me to our talk--you know you’re supposed to ask before you bring Feli over.” He tapped his toes, waiting for Ludwig’s excuse.

“I… I know,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat in the barstool by the counter. Alfred and Ivan shared a look, both glad not to be Ludwig in this situation. He looked ashamed, like a scolded puppy after they ripped all the wrapping off of the Christmas gifts--he knew he shouldn’t have done it, but it was just too tempting.

“What if I had walked in? You think I wanna walk into my apartment, ready to relax, just to find my brother dicking down his boyfriend?” 

“Unneeded, Gil,” Ludwig said, putting his face in his hands, probably to cover his blush again. “I’ll ask next time, ja?”

“Damn right you will,” Gilbert replied, punching his shoulder a bit too hard for comfort, but smiling all the same. “I won’t tell Lovino  _ this time _ . But one more strike and I’ll hold nothing back.”

“Ja, I got it,” Ludwig rushed, face paling. Alfred wondered exactly what Lovino had done to Ludwig to make him so scared, though he did have to admit, he also found Lovino a bit intimidating.

“Ask about what?” Feli’s cheery voice cut in as he bounced his way over to Ludwig, standing by his side and wrapping his arms around the taller boy. “Oh, is he giving you trouble for yesterday? I’m sorry I told Lovi--I just can’t lie to him!”

Ludwig put a hand over Feli’s mouth to stop his rambling. “It’s okay, Feli, really.”

“His chest may not be,” Alfred snickered, elbowing Ivan, who also cracked up. The two of them laughed along with Gilbert and Feli. Only Ludwig seemed to be unimpressed.

“I may have gotten carried away,” Feli said, biting his bottom lip and giving Ludwig a side look.

“Gotten carried away with what?” Antonio asked, carrying the last of the bags into the apartment. 

“Nothing!” Ludwig rushed out right as Lovino walked in. For being the shortest guy in the room, he was crazy intimidating.

“Bullshit,” he barked at Ludwig, shooting daggers that Alfred was terrified to get in the way of. He gave Ivan’s sleeve a little tug in an attempt to get his attention, only to realize that Ivan was already looking at him.

“What is it, дорогой?” Ivan asked him, brushing his bangs out of his face

“Can you help me with my chemistry homework?” he asked, giving his boyfriend the puppy eyes.

Ivan giggled at how cute Alfred looked, especially with his glasses. “Of course, as long as you help me with my math homework.”

“Deal,” Alfred said, holding his hand out like he wanted a shake, but took Ivan’s hand in his fully and dragged him over to the coffee table, and they set up their stuff, sitting so close they Alfred was practically in Ivan’s lap, but neither of the boys minded. There was something comforting about the action being so non-sexual yet sensual, causing Alfred to relax.

Everyone else seemed to be in a whole other realm as the two boys sunk into their work, occasionally leaning over even more and helping each other when they were stuck. By the end of it, Alfred was solving Hess’s law problems algebraically like it was reflexive, and Ivan was solving quadratic systems like it was simple as basic addition. Before they knew it, it was just past eight in the evening, meaning they had been working for about three hours or so. 

Alfred stretched, cracking his back and then his neck. He looked over at Ivan, who was just finishing up his last problem, and waited patiently for him to finish. When he did, Alfred curled up into his side, even though the angle hurt his already sore back a bit. Ivan gently pulled him fully into his lap so that Alfred was facing perpendicular form Ivan. The two boys looked at each other and gave each other a kiss. Alfred just wanted to keep kissing his boyfriend until his lips were swollen and he was breathless, but he was reminded by the outrageous amount of noise coming from the kitchen that they weren’t alone, and he couldn’t exactly do that right now. Even though he really,  _ really  _ wanted to.

But Ivan didn’t seem to be on the same page as him. There were no fluttering touches, or wandering hands that crept to sensitive places, just a consistent cold hand rubbing his back in smooth circles. It was nice, but it was puzzling Alfred a bit, to be honest. Normally Ivan wasn’t so well behaved--this was the same guy who shoved him against school walls in hidden hallways and made him a mess. Alfred decided to not think about it for the moment, and just enjoy the time together.

A few moments later, Ludwig came over to them. “Gilbert’s suggesting we start a game of Twister. You guys in?”

Alfred popped up from the couch, cheering, “Hell yeah! I love Twister!” Ivan was less enthusiastic, but agreed anyway.

Gilbert and Ludwig moved the couch like it was no problem, and it was kind of intimidating. They were scarily strong--stronger than Alfred ever hoped to be. 

They could only play with four people at a time, so they decided that they would be in groups. Except for Ludwig. He wanted to be on spinner duty instead. Antonio, Gilbert, Lovino, and Ivan went up first. They ended up in some strange positions; Antonio was doing an excellent bridge over Ivan, but Gilbert’s hip was centimetres away from connecting with his cheekbone, and Lovino was contorted around their legs.

“The bastard’s doing this on purpose,” he complained, voice slightly strained. Alfred wouldn’t have been that surprised, because Ludwig seemed to be enjoying his spinner duty a lot. Feli thought the whole thing was hilarious, and Mattie kept teasing Gilbert about his lack of flexibility. Even though Alfred was sure that Gilbert was more flexible than himself. 

Eventually Ivan fell--he was not flexible enough to compete with Toni and Lovi, and it had been thanks to his strength and endurance that he had lasted that long. Carefully, he removed himself from the mat, and came to sit by Alfred and the rest of the gang. Immediately, Alfred pulled him close, but Ivan seemed to hesitate for a moment before letting himself be pressed against Alfred’s side.

The game continued, and Alfred was practically positive that Ludwig was making it torturous for everyone involved. Lovino was complaining so loud that they almost missed when Gilbert gave up, hitting the ground with a dull  _ thud.  _ That left Antonio and Lovino in the face off, which Lovino won by slightly cheating by choosing spots that would place him over Antonio, and then gave him a surprise kiss that made Antonio fall. Antonio laughed, pulling Lovino, who was now grumbling about being hugged, kissing the top of his head. 

“Okay, okay, off of the mat,” Gilbert laughed, pulling Antonio’s leg and dragging both him and Lovino off of the mat.

Matthew, Feli, and Alfred straightened out the mat. Ludwig refused to join, holding the spinner tightly, seemingly mortified of the game. Once again, the boys were a mix up of limbs, entangled. Alfred’s muscles burned, and it wasn’t long before he dropped out. He went back to sitting by Ivan, flopping his head into his lap. Once again, Ivan didn’t have the reaction Alfred thought he would have--he just pet Alfred’s hair, careful not to hit his glasses. Sweet, but off. 

When Mattie ended up falling, ending the round, Antonio, Lovino, and Feliciano faced off. Alfred didn’t pay attention, deciding that confronting his boyfriend was more important.

“Hey,” he said, caressing Ivan’s cheek softly. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m okay,” Ivan replied, giving Alfred a kiss on the forehead. There was something off in the way he spoke, like he was hiding something, but Alfred didn’t want to push him. He wasn’t the most open person, after all.

Feli ended up winning the game, apparently, and immediately cheered, heading over to his boyfriend and giving him a quick kiss. Lovino looked like he was going to lose his mind, and Antonio was too busy in the kitchen getting something with Gilbert, so Alfred hopped up, putting himself between the angry Italian and the happy couple.

“I don’t believe we’ve actually met before,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Alfred.”

Lovino tore his eyes away from the couple, glaring at Alfred. “Lovino,” he said curtly, shaking his hand. Huh, so he could be civil. Even if his version of civil was chilling to the core.

“So, how’d you meet Antonio?” Sure, Alfred knew most of the story, but he had to get this guy to focus on something other than Feli and Ludwig or all hell would break loose. He could feel it.

Lovino gave him a strange look--a mixture of  _ why are you asking me that _ and  _ what makes you think you have the right to ask me that _ \--before taking a deep breath. “I met Toni when I went to go live in Spain. His family knew my grandfather, so they arranged my stay. I ended up staying for longer than I had originally anticipated, but Toni never minded.” Lovino smiled, looking like he was far away in his memories. Alfred envied that--he could never go back into his mind without having a panic attack. “He taught me Spanish, and more about their culture. He made sure I always knew I was welcome, even when I felt like I was intruding.

“He never made any advances on me--which I will admit I was a bit annoyed about, since it was clear that he liked me. When I moved back home… it was crushing. I thought I would never see him again. But my family moved here, to America, and we ended up finding Gilbert. That was a blessing. He was able to tell Toni that I was here. He applied immediately to a university here, got early acceptance, and left everything else behind for me.”

“Seems like a pretty devoted guy,” Alfred said, quite blown away that Antonio had really left his whole life behind in Spain to start a new one with Lovino. Such devotion--he wondered if he could ever be that heroic. Probably not.

Before Lovino could respond, Antonio and Gilbert came in with drinks and food on trays. Alfred perked up at seeing the food; he was starving. He hadn’t had the chance to eat before basically getting kicked out of his house by Francis.

Toni set the snack tray on the table, and Gilbert set down the drinks. Alfred rolled his eyes. Of course there was beer. He looked at Ivan in astonishment as he and Ludwig both went for the beers. He watched as Ivan drank it like it was nothing (sure, beer is usually low in alcohol percentage, however Alfred didn’t drink, so it was still quite impressive to him).

Alfred sipped his pop as he lost himself in his thoughts. Hopefully everything was going well with Arthur and Francis. He hadn’t even realized that Arthur had been down lately, and vaguely wondered if it was somehow his fault. And then there was the gorgeous boy on his right, who was drinking, and acting different than usual. Maybe that was his fault, too. He’d definitely have to sort that out soon, and maybe talk to Arthur, which would suck more than talking to literally anyone else.

Alfred would have to start to address these issues soon. 


End file.
